Jane Potter and the Blood of the Unicorn
by The Plaid Slytherin
Summary: What if Lily and James had a baby girl instead? Jane Potter has never had friends until she meets Hermione and the other students at Hogwarts. Magic is brilliant, but there is a dark side to it. Something is slaying unicorns in the Forbidden Forest and the evil wizard who killed Jane's parents may be behind it.
1. Professor Kettleburn

**A/N:** This is a story I've wanted to write for a long time, but it was only recently, under the influence of Dethryl that I've been able to focus and get it done. All due credit goes to him for getting me through this process. (And go read his fic. It's awesome.)

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Professor Kettleburn**

The very first piece of mail Jane Potter ever received was very strange indeed.

She had had other mail before, but it hadn't been _addressed_ to her. Once, Uncle Vernon had been distributing the family's mail at breakfast and had given Jane a grocer's circular addressed to 'Occupant,' which hadn't been in English.

This was not a coupon circular, however. It wasn't even a drill catalogue, which she sometimes got to page through on her way back to the breakfast table.

It was a _letter_. A letter addressed to _Jane_.

Not only was it addressed to her, but in a very strange manner.

_Miss J. Potter_

_The Cupboard under the Stairs_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey _

Quickly, before she even had time to think, she shoved it into the pocket of her dress. She didn't know who would send her a letter, but if Dudley saw it, he would take it from her, not to mention Uncle Vernon.

All throughout breakfast, she felt the letter in her pocket, hoping no one would notice. The Dursleys never paid Jane much notice, unless she was doing something they thought she shouldn't, like talking to someone or trying to change the channel on television. She couldn't wait to get a moment to herself back in her cupboard to open the letter and the tantalizing prospect of _reading_ the letter (it felt nice and thick) helped to keep her mind off Dudley's Smeltings stick, which he kept waving dangerously close to Jane's head.

That was another thing Jane was looking forward to—Dudley going to boarding school. She was sure that being alone with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would do nothing to improve their attitude toward her, but at least Dudley would be out of her way. Maybe when she went to Stonewall High in September she would be able to make a friend, or at least talk to someone.

That is, if someone would want to talk to the girl with the secondhand uniform. Jane had already seen it and it was at least two sizes too big.

"You'll grow into it," Aunt Petunia had said, pinching her arm. "Unless you insist on remaining that skinny."

Jane knew, though, that Stonewall High would probably be no different than her primary school. There she was ignored at best, teased at worst. None of the girls would talk to her because they thought she was weird, and all of the boys were afraid of Dudley, which meant they often took part in making fun of Jane.

After breakfast, Uncle Vernon left for work and Aunt Petunia sent Dudley outside after he swept a vase of flowers off the worktop with the stick. Jane did the dishes and cleaned up the mess from the vase, pleased to see that Aunt Petunia was starting to become exasperated with Ickle Diddykins. As soon as she was finished, Aunt Petunia shooed her out.

It was time to read the letter.

Jane went to the cupboard and shut the door. The letter was a bit rumpled from being in her pocket, but she could still tell the paper was very nice, as if it had been designed to look old-fashioned. She looked again at the strange form of address in the green ink. Who else knew where she lived? And why would someone address a letter to a room inside the house when all the post wound up on the mat?

Jane slit the envelope with her thumb. The letter was printed on the same kind of parchment as the envelope, with the same seal as on the outside, the four animals and the letter H. She had never seen anything like it before.

She read the letter twice. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? It had to be a prank. She hadn't thought Dudley would be clever enough to pull off something so elaborate, much less all the details—Dudley had no imagination of his own, and she couldn't picture Piers Polkiss doing this either, even after the incident with the boa constrictor at the zoo last month.

Even so, it obviously wasn't real. The idea was just silly. There was nothing special or magical about Jane. Despite what the Dursleys seemed to think, she was an utterly ordinary girl. She had long, dark red hair and hazel eyes, and once, years ago, Aunt Petunia had said she might have been pretty if it wasn't for the scar. It was on her forehead, above her right eye, and it was shaped like a lightning bolt. It was the only thing she had from her parents, having gotten it in the car crash in which they'd been killed.

Jane folded the letter back up, put it in the envelope and put it on the shelf above her bed. For a week, she forgot all about it.

On Wednesday, which happened to be the day after Jane's birthday (not that the Dursleys had acknowledged it), Aunt Petunia brought out the sewing kit.

"You're old enough to hem your school skirt," she said, dropping a pile of heavy gray cloth into Jane's lap. It took her nearly a minute to find the hem. Aunt Petunia handed her a needle and thread and Jane's stomach dropped. The last time Aunt Petunia had tried to teach her to sew had not gone well at all. Jane had struggled to thread the needle to the point where Aunt Petunia had accused her of being deliberately obtuse. Near tears, Jane had protested that she was doing no such thing; the needle was just very hard to thread, when suddenly, the eye of the needle had enlarged to about an inch across. Both of them had stared at it for a long moment before Aunt Petunia had shrieked and grabbed the sewing things back. Jane had spent a week in the cupboard and after that, there had been no further talk of sewing.

She didn't anticipate this ending well either.

"Now," Aunt Petunia said, handing her the needle. "No funny business."

"It wasn't funny business," Jane muttered. She took a stab at the needle, but it remained frustratingly tiny.

The doorbell rang. Jane moved to get up, but Aunt Petunia said, "Dudley, make sure your little friends wipe their feet."

Sighing, Dudley got off the couch and stalked into the hall. "Why do I have to do everything?" he grumbled.

Jane turned her attention back to the needle.

"Mum, it's a charity," Dudley called, coming back into the lounge.

"Well, what sort? Did you tell him to go away?" Aunt Petunia's line of questioning was cut off by a man with a lot of white hair and a shabby tweed suit entering the lounge. "Dudley! You let him in?"

"Didn't!" Dudley protested. "I closed the door on him."

The man was very unlike any other person who had ever been inside Number Four. His face was covered by a number of scars and he had a hook for a hand. Jane wondered if he'd been in an accident or was a war veteran.

"Get out of my house this instant!" Aunt Petunia shrieked. "I'll have you arrested."

"Sit down, missus," the man said, waving his hook dismissively. "I ain't here for you. I'm here for the girl."

Aunt Petunia and Dudley both stared at Jane as if she would be able to explain.

"Do you mean me?" she asked tentatively.

"Who else would I mean? Don't think this one has as much of an ounce of magic in _him_ and you're the one who got the letter. Why didn't you owl back? I had to come all the way out here."

At this, Aunt Petunia gasped and clapped her hands over Dudley's ears. "You stupid girl!" she shrieked. "Have you been in contact with these people?"

"I haven't been in contact with anyone!" Jane cried. "I don't even know what he's talking about, magic and all that rubbish."

"Rubbish?" The man's bushy gray eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean by rubbish?"

"Well," Jane said, deciding this man was unbalanced, "there's no such thing as magic."

The man swiveled on Aunt Petunia, who let out a terrified squeak. "What in blazes have you been telling her?"

"Nothing," Aunt Petunia spat. "We didn't even know she'd got a letter. She must've kept it from us; she's a sneak..." She turned to Dudley. "Get in the kitchen. Now."

Dudley, who was never snapped at, looked too shocked to argue and scrambled out of the room.

"I thought the letter was a joke," Jane said.

The man was silent. He crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his hook against his elbow in a most unsettling manner. "It's been a long time since I did a home visit, much less to Muggles. They got me out here because the other teachers were busy with other visits," he said finally. "They told me this'd be an easy one. Half-blood. Supposed to know about magic. But not _once_ have I ever seen a half-blood wizarding child kept from her birthright like this. _What is wrong with you, woman_?"

Aunt Petunia was turning red. "I thought we could keep her normal. Thought that if we didn't say anything, she wouldn't wind up a freak, like... like my sister."

"What are you doing, calling my mother a freak?" Jane asked hotly.

"She got a letter," Aunt Petunia said. "A woman came and took her away. Told her was a... a... a _witch_, like that awful boy had always been saying. And then she was gone. She hardly ever came home and she'd barely finished school when she'd gotten herself knocked up by that Potter freak and then they both got themselves killed."

"That's enough of that," the mysterious man said. He turned, suddenly, and seized the Smeltings stick from Dudley, who had been sneaking up behind him, ready to hit him on the head. Holding the stick in his remaining hand, the stranger hit it against his other arm, snapping it clean in two. "That's better," he said, tossing the broken halves back to Dudley before collapsing in a squashy armchair. "If I'm really going to have to explain everything, girl, I want to do it without worrying I'm going to get my brains bashed out."

Aunt Petunia grabbed Dudley (who was still clutching the remains of his stick) by the arm and hurried them both into the kitchen, leaving Jane and the stranger alone.

"So they didn't tell you anything?" he said suddenly. Jane shook her head. Whatever it was about the letter, no one had explained anything to her.

He sighed heavily. "Haven't introduced myself, have I? Name's Kettleburn. I teach Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts."

Hogwarts. The letter had said Hogwarts.

"So Hogwarts is real," Jane said. It wasn't a question.

Kettleburn nodded.

"What about the, er, witchcraft bits?"

"Real as anything." His hook hand vanished and was replaced by a long stick. "Have a look at this." He waved the stick and the ottoman in front of Jane turned into cat.

"Oh! Aunt Petunia's allergic to cats," she said automatically. This was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Kettleburn flicked the stick and the cat ran into the kitchen. She heard Aunt Petunia shriek.

A smile spread over her face. Magic was brilliant.

* * *

If magic was brilliant, Diagon Alley was _amazing_. Apparition was amazing, which was how they had gotten there, but the place itself was even better. It was the best place Jane had ever been.

It was full of witches and wizards—people like Jane—and it had been right here and she'd never known. She felt a sudden swell of belonging. Everyone here was like her. All the strange things she'd ever done—like the needle—now made sense. She was a witch.

It was almost too much to take in—the wizarding bank, run by goblins, and the vault full of gold that had been Jane's parents'; the bookshop that contained all manner of odd books including _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, which Kettleburn had personally presented her with, saying that it would come in useful later.

The best part, though, was Ollivander's. Jane had been looking forward to getting her magic wand since she'd first seen Kettleburn use his, and now it was the last thing on her list.

Kettleburn opened the door to the shop and ushered her in. "This might take a while," he explained. "Took me over an hour for my first wand."

For a moment, Jane was afraid this meant he was leaving her, but grabbed a chair from the corner and sat down. "Don't be nervous," he told her. "Ollivander's an odd chap, but he's the best in the business."

"Ah, Silvanus," said a voice that made Kettleburn's whole body twitch. "Chestnut and phoenix feather, eleven-and-a-half inches, am I correct?"

"Yeah," Kettleburn said gruffly. "That's it." He looked down at his prosthetic arm, in which his wand was stored.

Then Ollivander turned his attention to Jane. Kettleburn looked visibly relieved. "And Miss Potter. I've been thinking you would be visiting me soon." She couldn't blame him; Ollivander's creepy silver gaze was incredibly unsettling.

"How do you know who I am?" she asked cautiously.

Ollivander ignored her question and pulled out a tape measure. "Hold out your wand arm."

Jane decided this meant the one she wrote with.

When Ollivander had finished with his measurements, he stepped back, looking thoughtful. "Now, your mother's wand… willow, ten-and-a-quarter inches… good for charms. You do look uncannily like her." He reached over Jane's head and pulled out a box. "Try this one. Wave it about and see what happens."

Jane waved the wand. Nothing happened.

The old man tapped his chin. "Perhaps you take after your father then." He all but snatched the wand out of her hand and handed her another. "This one's a bit whippier, better for transfiguration."

This one did nothing either.

Jane tried wand after wand, but none of them did anything, none of them felt right. She didn't know what _right_ would feel like, but she could tell none of these were. Somehow, she got the sense that the right wand for her would feel like more than just a stick.

"I wonder," Ollivander said suddenly, after he'd snatched back a wand half a second after he'd given it to her. "I wonder."

"Wonder what?"

Ignoring her again, he came up with one more wand box and handed the wand to her as if it were made of glass. "Try that one." Jane looked at Kettleburn for any clue as to why Ollivander was behaving so oddly, but he was looking out the window.

Even just having it in her hand made Jane feel that this one was somehow different. Ollivander had a strange expression on his face. "Wave it."

Jane did and got a shower of red and gold sparks. Her whole arm was tingling. She grinned. "This is it, isn't it? This is the right one."

"It is." Ollivander looked grave. "Highly unusual. Highly unusual, indeed."

"Er, what is?" Jane could barely tear her eyes away from her wand.

"Holly and phoenix feather," he murmured. "Eleven inches." He took it back from her and examined it again. "Yes, this is the one." He looked at her again, but he wasn't looking at her eyes. He was looking at her scar.

Jane put her hand over it. "This is just… I got in the accident."

"Accident?" Mr. Ollivander raised his bushy eyebrows and looked at Kettleburn. "Silvanus?"

"Oh," Kettleburn said. "Didn't think to mention that. Bloody Muggles didn't tell her anything."

"What do you mean?" Jane asked. "My parents. They were killed in a car accident, that's what my relatives always told me…" She trailed off, because the look on Ollivander's face told her quite plainly that this was not the case.

"I never thought I would be the one to tell you this…" Ollivander looked down at her wand again. "Jane Potter. Your parents were killed by a great Dark wizard. His name was Lord Voldemort."

Jane's stomach dropped. All those years of thinking her parents had died in accident, because they had been drunk… What a horrible lie for Aunt Petunia to make up.

Kettleburn shuddered. "Don't say the name," he said sharply. "Give her the wrong idea."

"What do you mean?" Jane said, turning to look at him. "What's wrong with saying his name?"

"Dark times." Kettleburn shook his head. "People were scared, didn't know who was a supporter of You-Know-Who. Didn't know who to trust."

"I remember it well, Silvanus," Ollivander said. "As I recall, you yourself-"

"I don't like to think about it," Kettleburn cut in. "You just have to know, girl, tensions were high. People... people being wrongly accused, and Death Eaters—those were his supporters—getting away with murder..."

"So," she said, trying to process all of this, "he killed my parents?" She looked back at Ollivander for confirmation.

"And he tried to kill you, too." His eyes never left hers. "No one knows why he went after your family, or how you survived, but all the same… " He reached forward, brushing her fringe aside and ran a long finger down her scar. Jane shivered. "They found you in the ruins of your house, parents dead, the Dark Lord vanished, and you with only that scar to show for it. ... You've been known in our world as the Girl Who Lived ever since. No one else has ever survived the Killing Curse."

"So he's gone now?" It was hard to keep her voice steady. "Voldemort's gone?" She'd forgotten about the name and Kettleburn flinched again.

"That is what most people hope." Ollivander looked like he was going to say more but didn't. "The truly odd thing, however, is the wand... yes, the wand." He followed her gaze down to her wand. "Your wand contains a phoenix feather core, and I made two wands using feathers from that particular phoenix."

A chill ran through her. "Who bought the other one?" she asked, though she knew the answer.

"Lord Voldemort."

Kettleburn looked like he wanted to get out of there, so Jane reached for her money pouch to pay for the wand. The professor took this opportunity to leave the shop, on the pretext of getting some air.

"Er, thanks, by the way," Jane said, as Ollivander took her Galleons. "For telling me about my parents."

"Only my duty." Ollivander shut the till. "I believe every witch or wizard should know the story behind his or her own wand."

She didn't know if her next question was too presumptive but she wanted to ask it anyway and she didn't know if she'd have an opportunity like this again. "They're like weapons, aren't they? Wands?"

"In the wrong hands, yes." Ollivander came out from behind the counter. "Lord Voldemort accomplished great things with his wand. Terrible things, but great. You, too, could be great, Miss Potter. I simply hope you will make better choices. Indeed, the wand chooses the wizard, but after that, it is on the wizard to decide what he does with the wand."

He handed Jane her wand with two hands, and she looked down at it, suddenly very uncomfortable.

* * *

After that experience, Kettleburn took her back to the pub called the Leaky Cauldron.

"Butterbeer for the girl and an ice gin for me, Tom," he said, slapping some coins on the bar.

"Butterbeer?" Jane asked. "Is that... alcohol?"

"Not much. Don't worry about it."

She didn't say anything until the drinks were in front of them. Kettleburn's was giving off a large quantity of fog, but he knocked it back nonetheless.

"I'm sorry," she said, sipping her butterbeer. It was delicious. "About, er, You-Know-Who."

"Don't worry about it," Kettleburn repeated. "Just reminded me of a spot of trouble I ran into back then." He took another swig. "Whatever you do, girl, just don't wind up in Azkaban. Awful, awful place."

Jane didn't want to pry, so she quietly sipped her drink.

When they were finished, Kettleburn stood, looking more refreshed. "Now, then," he said. "Pet."

"Pet?" Jane asked curiously.

"Of course! Witch needs a familiar." He set out from the pub, Jane jogging to catch up under the weight of her bags.

Magical Menagerie was crowded with animals. Jane thought she'd never been in such a wonderful place. Aunt Petunia would never allow an animal of any kind inside the house, which didn't keep Jane staring longingly at friendly dogs, passing cats, even birds. She'd loved to go to Mrs. Figg's and play with her cats.

That was it. Jane wanted a cat. The letter had said she could have one and a witch was supposed to have a cat.

She looked around, studying each of the kittens on display intently. They were all so cute, she didn't think she'd ever be able to pick...

"Crookshanks! Get down!"

Jane turned. The witch behind the counter was pushing a large, squashy-faced ginger cat away from the till. He yowled in protest and leapt down, running to Jane.

"Hello, there," she said, scooping him up. "Is he for sale?"

The witch's eyes widened. "You want him?"

Jane looked down at the cat. "He seems nice. His name's Crookshanks?"

"I'll let you have the accessories for free if you'll take him off my hands." The witch brushed hair from the till. "He's a terror, that one."

"I think he's sweet." Jane turned to Kettleburn. "I'm getting this one."

Kettleburn was examining Crookshanks closely. "Good choice, girl. He looks like he'll be a clever one."

Crookshanks purred, as if he could understand. "Good kitty." Jane scratched behind his ears.

The whole way back to Privet Drive, Jane rehearsed what she would say to the Dursleys. There was so much to explain—having to go off to school, Crookshanks...

She looked nervously at Kettleburn. "They'll let me go, won't they? To Hogwarts?"

"Who, the Muggles?" Kettleburn let out a short bark of laughter. "I'd like to see 'em try to stop you."

Indeed, when Kettleburn dropped her off and informed the Dursleys she needed to be at King's Cross on the first of September, they didn't even look at her.


	2. A Girl Named Hermione

**Chapter Two**

**A Girl Named Hermione**

The Dursleys spent the month of August ignoring Jane, which she didn't mind because it gave her the opportunity to read her new schoolbooks. She was excited about all of the classes, but she was especially interested in the magical creatures. She read _Fantastic Beasts_ twice and she decided the class she was most looking forward to was Kettleburn's.

She also played with Crookshanks, which was tight in the cupboard. She quickly learned he was very affectionate and loved to have his belly rubbed. Jane tried to make a toy for him from an old shoelace, but there wasn't a lot of room to twitch it around for him.

"I'm sorry, Crooks," she said, one afternoon, as they lay on her bed, looking at _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_. "It'll be better at Hogwarts."

Crookshanks yowled quietly and she stroked his soft fur. "Not much longer now," she murmured, laying her head back. "Then we'll be out of here."

The first of September arrived before she knew it and while Uncle Vernon agreed to drive her to King's Cross, she soon thought it was only so that he could see her proved an idiot when there turned out not to be any Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters.

There had to be one.

Jane looked frantically back and forth between the large plastic nine and the large plastic ten. There wasn't any large plastic nine-and-three-quarters, and Uncle Vernon was long gone. Perhaps this was how they planned to finally be rid of Jane, to leave her in the train station forever.

But there _had_ to be a platform. Hogwarts was real; Diagon Alley had been real...

In his carrier on her trolley, Crookshanks yowled.

"Packed with Muggles, of course!"

Jane looked over her shoulder. There was a family, all with flaming red hair. Jane watched as the woman led her children towards where Jane was standing. All but the youngest had trunks like Jane's and they had an owl, just like she'd seen in Diagon Alley.

She watched intently as the woman sent her oldest son toward the barrier, but a group of people walked in between them and Jane couldn't see what he had done. She was wasting time. She had to go now.

"Fred, you're next," the woman said to her next son, who Jane realized was one of twins.

"I'm not Fred," he protested. "I'm George! Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother."

"Sorry, George, dear," his flustered-looking mother said.

The boy laughed. "Only joking. I _am_ Fred." He took off with his trolley and again, Jane watched to see what he did. She couldn't tell. It was now or never.

She took a deep breath, tucked her hair behind her ears and said, "Excuse me." They all looked at her.

The little sister's eyes went wide. "_Mum_! That's—"

"Ginny," her mother began to admonish, but then she stopped. "Merlin, you're right." Then, she seemed to compose herself. "I'm so sorry, dear. Did you need help?"

"Yes, please." Jane tried to ignore the stares of the three remaining children. She couldn't understand what was so odd about her. "I just need a little help-" She looked to where Fred and his brother had disappeared.

"Oh! The platform. Of course, this is your first time. It's quite easy; you don't have to do anything but go right up to the barrier and pass through. George will show you, won't you, George?"

"What are you talking about, Mum? I'm Fred!"

"_George_!"

"All right, all right." George grinned at Jane. "It's easy. C'mon." He took off at a bit of a run and Jane had to hurry to keep up on her much-shorter legs.

"Won't we hit it?" she asked worriedly.

"Nope," George said. "Watch." And at the very moment they should have crashed into solid brick wall, they passed smoothly through it, as though it were made of nothing but air. On the other side of the barrier, students and their families were milling about, no sign of the Muggle station they'd left behind evident whatsoever.

"Let's get out of the way," George said, nodding to the right. "Mum's going to send Ron through next; woman's like clockwork. She has to be, or she wouldn't get us all off in time. I'm George, by the way. George Weasley." They shook hands.

"Jane Potter."

He smirked. "I know."

She clapped a hand to her forehead. "So that's why-"

"Oi, George!" Fred was approaching them now. "Come and see what Lee's got. It's a spider."

"Wicked!" George's face lit up. "Think we can get Ron over there?" He turned back to Jane. "Like spiders?"

She shrugged. "I guess." There had been spiders in the cupboard under the stairs and she hadn't minded them. When she was younger, she'd talked to them—none had talked back, though. Maybe a magical spider would be different.

"This is Jane," George explained. "Jane Potter."

Fred's eyes widened. "Bloody hell. It really is her. Hey, do you remember what You-Know-Who looked like?"

Jane shook her head. "No. I don't remember anything. I only found out about magic a month ago."

"Wow," Fred breathed. George looked surprised, too. "Our whole family's magic. So you know all about Muggle stuff, right?"

Jane shrugged. "I guess. I grew up with Muggles."

"Brilliant." Fred looked as if he was as interested in Muggles as Jane was in magic. "Come and see the tarantula."

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a knot of older students, but they all parted as the twins approached, flanking Jane.

"Who's this?" the boy, who she supposed was Lee, said.

Fred clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Jane Potter."

"Blimey," Lee said. "I'd forgotten she was going to be two years behind us. Do you like spiders?"

Jane wasn't sure she would ever get used to people gaping at her. She'd been quickly introduced to the twins' third-year friends Lee, Angelina, and Alicia. Lee was presently letting the spider climb up her arm, a ticklish feeling that wasn't altogether unpleasant, while Fred and George were carrying her trunk onto the train.

"Fred! George! There you are!" Mrs. Weasley was approaching, her two youngest in tow. "Hello, Jane, dear. I see George got you in all right."

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley, thank you." Jane smiled, feeling like the effect was somewhat lost by the fact that the spider was now slowly latching on to her hair as it made its way up. The youngest Weasley boy was looking green.

"Well, you had all better get yourselves on the train," Mrs. Weasley said, looking at the clock on the wall. "It will be leaving soon."

Jane returned the spider to Lee, while George protested, "Mum, do you think the Hogwarts Express has ever left with this many people still on the platform?"

"I don't know, but I certainly do not want to find out this year." She kissed her youngest son quickly, to his chagrin, then each twin. The girl was beginning to look upset.

"I'll miss you," she said quickly. "I wish I could come early; I don't _want_ to be the last one left."

"We'll send you letters."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

Their sister's lip trembled.

"Relax, Ginny," Fred said. "It's only a year. Then you can come and you'll be in Gryffindor with the four of us and Jane."

"You really think you'll be in Gryffindor?" Ginny asked Jane, eyes wide. "You _know_?"

Jane looked at the twins. "I don't know what Gryffindor is."

The twins exchanged a significant glance over her head. "You'll find out," Fred said. "It's brilliant. All right. On the train with you." They led her to the door of the nearest car and bowed her on. Then, they went back to talk to their mother and siblings and Jane was alone. Listening to the fading conversation between the Weasleys (Jane tried to pretend she hadn't heard Mrs. Weasley ask the twins to keep an eye on her), she tried to look for her trunk.

She found it in a compartment that was already occupied by a girl. She looked like a first year, judging by size, but Jane could see nothing else of her but her bushy brown hair and black Hogwarts robes. The rest of her was buried in a thick, leather-bound book.

Jane opened the door. "Excuse me. Do you mind if I sit here?"

The girl looked up in surprise. "Of course not. Is this your cat? He's quite nice." Before Jane could answer, the other girl's eyes widened. "You're Jane Potter!"

"Yeah," Jane said. At least this was better than her Muggle primary school, where her classmates and most of her teachers could never remember her name.

"I've read all about you," she said excitedly. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. I didn't even know I was a witch until last month. We were all so surprised."

Jane felt instant relief. "I didn't know I was a witch either!" Maybe she wouldn't be totally alone and clueless, though it already seemed like Hermione knew a lot more than Jane did.

"You didn't?" Hermione's eyebrows rose. "But you defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

"I guess," Jane said. "I don't remember. I grew up with my Muggle aunt and uncle." She went over to the luggage rack and let Crookshanks out of his carrier. He curled up on the seat and went to sleep.

Hermione still looked surprised, but she slid over on her seat and laid her book next to her. Jane supposed this was supposed to look inviting. "I can tell you loads of things. I've read _Hogwarts: a History_."

Hermione proceeded to launch into a description of what she'd read about Jane, the four Hogwarts houses (one of which was Gryffindor) and the castle. Jane couldn't wait to see the changing ceiling in the Great Hall.

They were engaged in conversation when the door slid open. "Excuse me," said a round-faced boy. "Have you seen a toad? I've lost mine."

Hermione looked around like the toad might be in plain sight. "No. We'll help you look. Are you going to every compartment?"

The boy nodded and Hermione breezed past him into the corridor. Jane followed. She wanted to help—she'd have been heartbroken if anything happened to Crookshanks.

"What's his name?" she asked the boy. "I mean, what's your name."

"I'm Neville," he said. "Neville Longbottom. My toad's Trevor."

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione said. "This is Jane Potter."

Neville looked surprised but he didn't say anything. Hermione opened the first door. "Have you seen a toad? Neville's lost one."

There were a group of girls in the compartment who looked like they were in their year. They reminded Jane of the girls at her primary school who had traveled in packs.

"A toad? You have a toad?" The girl who said this had long brown hair and a pug nose. "Who's had a toad in this decade?"

Neville turned red. "My Great-Uncle Algie gave him to me when I got my letter." He started to cry and some of the girls laughed. Jane put her arm around him. It looked like there were people just like the Dursleys in the wizarding world too.

"Don't listen to Pansy," said one of a pair of twins, giving the pug-nosed girl a sharp look. "We'll keep an eye out. Don't cry."

Pansy's eyes snapped to Jane's forehead. "You're Jane Potter," she said. "What did you say your name was?" she asked Hermione.

"Hermione Granger. My parents are dentists."

Pansy wrinkled her a nose. "What's a dentist? Sounds Muggle."

"Yes," Hermione said, sounding proud. "I'm the first witch in our family. A dentist is someone who cares for peoples' teeth."

Pansy looked horrified. "That sounds absolutely disgusting. Muggles are barbaric."

"Well, I've seen that treat trolley," Hermione said, with her chin in the air. "I'd hate to see the state of wizards' teeth."

Pansy frowned. "My teeth are perfectly fine without some Muggle's hands in my mouth, thank you very much." She closed her compartment door, leaving Jane, Hermione, and Neville standing in the corridor.

"I hope she's not in my house," Jane said.

"Do you know what house you'll be in?" Hermione asked, as they walked on. "Do you have any idea?"

Jane shrugged. "Someone said I might be in Gryffindor."

"I kind of hope I'm in Gryffindor," Hermione said. "It sounds like the best house—that or Ravenclaw, maybe."

"Bet I'm in Hufflepuff," Neville said mournfully. "They all say they're a bunch of duffers. My mum and dad were in Gryffindor, but I'm practically Muggle. My gran thought I was a Squib. I'll be the worst in our year."

"What's a Squib?" Jane asked.

"Someone who's born in a wizard family but can't do magic. Gran went all through our genealogy and found that someone had been a Squib back in 1614. She was so sure I'd never get my letter."

"But you did," Jane said encouragingly, "and look at me—you've got magic family; you know _loads_ more than me. I'll be the duffer."

Neville looked shocked. "But you're Jane Potter!"

"Yeah, and what's that mean when I don't know anything? I don't even remember anything about-" Jane stopped. "You-Know-Who."

Neville shook his head. "I'm sure you'll be in Gryffindor. You have to be in Gryffindor."

"What are you lot doing out of your compartment?" A red-haired boy with a red and gold badge with a P on it was approaching them. Jane recognized him as the oldest Weasley boy.

"Neville's lost his toad," Hermione said.

The older boy put his hands on his hips. "Then you should inform a prefect immediately. It just so happens that I am one. I'm Percy Weasley. I'll find your toad." He looked pleased to have something to do.

"What house are you in?" Hermione asked, as they followed him down the corridor. "I was wondering, as I've read about them. I keep thinking I'd like to be in Gryffindor, but Ravenclaw might be nice, too."

"I'm in Gryffindor," Percy said. "The Weasleys have been all-Gryffindor for generations. But there's certainly nothing wrong with the other houses. The Hufflepuffs are a nice bunch; they look out for each other. Gryffindor does, too. Your house is supposed to be your family at Hogwarts."

That sounded nice to Jane. She'd always wanted a family.

"What about Ravenclaw?" Hermione asked.

"They say that's the house for ones who like to study, but that's not entirely true." Percy opened one of the empty compartments and stuck his head in. "There are people who get good marks in all the houses. It's really just the founders' system—in the past, they handpicked the students, but today they need to be sorted with magic. We can't really know if this is how they'd really have divided up the students."

"What about Slytherin?" Neville asked. "I've... heard things about Slytherin."

"They do tend to be an unpleasant lot," Percy admitted. "Lots of the old pure-blooded families are in Slytherin—the ones who value blood purity. That's not to say it dictates who goes into Slytherin, but that's the common perception. They keep to themselves a lot. There's supposed to be a sort of rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin; that causes tension sometimes."

Jane considered all this. Most of the houses didn't sound so bad, but she didn't think she'd like to be in Slytherin. At least, if she was in Gryffindor, she'd be with the Weasleys. Besides Neville and Hermione, they were the only students she knew.

"What do you mean by blood purity?" she asked.

Percy thought for a moment. "Some wizards believe that Muggle-borns should be kept out of the wizarding world. They talk about the witch-burning times and such, which is actually a valid point, but it doesn't matter much today. I can sort of understand where they're coming from, but in modern times, it really just amounts to prejudice. Five hundred years ago, when wizards were really at danger from Muggles, it made sense—not letting Muggle-borns come to Hogwarts protected its location from Muggles who demanded magical solutions to their problems. Today, though, the blood purists like to argue that wizards from Muggle families are inferior, that they simply aren't as good at magic as a pure-blood."

Hermione paled. "I'm Muggle-born."

"And you've got every chance at being a brilliant witch as anyone else," Percy said proudly. "My family has always believed blood doesn't matter. My father's absolutely fascinated by Muggles, so I've got some experience with their technology. They really are brilliant, coming up with ways to get along without magic."

"I'm from a Muggle family, too," Jane said.

"But you're half-blood," Neville said. "Your parents were both magical. You're half-blood if you've got a wizard parent and a Muggle parent, or if your parents were Muggle-born."

"That sounds awfully complicated."

Neville shrugged. "Lots of people care about these things, though. You know, family. They say my family's one of the last... I don't know, twenty remaining completely pure families in Britain. Doesn't matter, though—I mean, look at me. Can't even find my toad."

"We _will_ find him," Hermione said firmly. She sounded like she had something to prove. "Come on."

They searched the entire length of the train, but found nothing. Neville was looking increasingly distraught as they went back to their compartment.

"Maybe we should go through again when everyone's off," Jane said, taking Crookshanks onto her lap and curling up by the window. "He may be scared of all the people."

"Maybe." Neville sat down glumly. "I thought it was so bloody brilliant when I got my letter... now look."

"Now, don't sulk," Hermione said forcefully. "He can't have got off the train. Now, where did you leave your things? You'd better change into your robes."

Neville left and Jane stood on the seat to get her robes. She put them on quickly, glad to be out of the scratchy, unfashionable dress Aunt Petunia made her wear.

Despite Neville's problem, Jane's excitement wasn't reduced by much. She was going to Hogwarts! She was going to learn Potions, and Charms, and Transfiguration, and especially Care of Magical Creatures! She watched the forests outside the windows turn to mountains as they sped north. It was starting to get very dark now—they must have been getting close.

As if she had known, the train began to slow and a voice said, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

"That was the conductor," Hermione explained, putting her book in her trunk.

Jane hadn't known there _was_ a conductor. She hadn't seen any adults at all on the train.

"Come on," Hermione said, as the train stopped. "Let's not get separated." She sounded a bit too eager, as though she didn't want to leave Jane behind.

It was cold outside, much colder than it had been in London. Jane pulled her cloak more tightly around her.

"Firs' years!" called a big booming voice. "Firs' years, this way!" Jane looked up to see the most unusual man she'd ever seen. He looked positively gigantic and most of his face was covered by an enormous black beard. She could just barely see his eyes in the dim light of the lamp he carried, but she thought he looked friendly, not threatening. Jane took a step forward.

"Well, I'll be a dragon's uncle," the man murmured softly. "Jane Potter?"

Jane smiled. "Yes, sir."

"Yer the very image of yer mother," he said, bending down to get a better look. He didn't get nearly halfway to her face. "And a lovely lady she was, too. Rubeus Hagrid's the name. Call me Hagrid." He reached out his enormous hand and shook Jane's whole arm.

"Righ' then. Any more firs' years? Follow me!"

Jane and Hermione followed closely. Beside her, Hermione was positively bouncing. Neville sidled up to them and Jane spotted the youngest Weasley brother.

"Hi," she said. "Ron, right? You must be excited to go to school with your brothers."

Ron shrugged. "I guess."

Jane was about to ask more when Hermione stopped dead and she nearly ran into her.

"_Look_," said Hermione breathlessly, her finger extended. Jane looked.

It was _Hogwarts_. The castle sat on the other side of large lake, which looked deep and black in the half moonlight. Its many windows were full of light and Jane felt her heart swell. Ten years she'd been at the Dursleys', but this was a place she could definitely see herself calling home. It was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen.

Hagrid led them down to the shore. "Watch your step there, girls. Four to a boat. Hurry up there, you—Weasley, is it?"

Ron grimaced and stepped somewhat reluctantly into a boat with Jane, Hermione, and Neville.

"Everyone all righ'?" Hagrid asked. When there were no objections, he announced, "FORWARD!"

Without even a jerk, the boats moved forward, sliding across the lake as if on ice. Jane's heart pounded as the castle loomed larger. She didn't think Hermione was breathing. Jane kept her eyes on Hogwarts until it went out of view as their boats glided through some hanging ivy, into a tunnel, which opened into a cavern which must have been deep under the school.

As they stepped gingerly from the boats, Neville stopped. "Look!" he exclaimed, bending down quickly enough that Ron almost fell over him. "Trevor!"

"I told you you'd find him," Hermione said, sounding satisfied.

The four of them hurried to catch the rest of the first years, following Hagrid up the path out onto the grass and around to the entrance.

The door opened when Hagrid knocked, revealing a stern-looking witch with black hair pulled back into a tight bun. She looked down at the first years, as if judging them, and Jane noticed her gaze quickly find her.

"Here they are, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid announced.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she said coolly. "I will take it from here."

The children followed Professor McGonagall into the enormous entrance hall and into a chamber off of it. It seemed that the older students were not far away; Jane could hear voices coming from the other side of a set of double doors.

Professor McGonagall waited for the first years to settle themselves down before she spoke. Jane listened carefully to her description of the house system. She'd already heard it from Hermione and she turned to smile at her new friend. Hermione looked surprised, but smiled back.

When McGonagall left them, the talking started up again. "Percy said we'd be sorted by magic," Jane said to Hermione. "Do you know what kind of spell?"

Hermione looked uncertain. "I don't know. There was nothing about it in _Hogwarts: a History_. It just said '_The Hogwarts Sorting is a great and ancient tradition shrouded in mystery, and it is not for us to reveal in these pages, so that each generation of witches and wizards may experience it firsthand_.'" Hermione looked very unsettled, as if she did not at all enjoy revealing she didn't know something.

"My brother Fred said we'd have to wrestle a troll," Ron spoke up, looking worried.

"Oh, that's silly," Hermione said dismissively. "It can't be that. You can't make _eleven-year-olds_ fight trolls."

Ron looked annoyed.

Suddenly, someone screamed. They all turned to look behind them, at the silvery masses passing into the chamber right through the wall opposite.

"What's that?" Jane cried.

"Oh, those are just ghosts!" Ron declared, looking pleased to know something. "They're harmless. Mostly."

The ghosts did seem friendly, especially the one who appeared to be a monk.

Jane was so distracted by the ghosts she almost didn't see Professor McGonagall when she came back in. When the ghosts had cleared away, she formed the first years into a line and led them into the Great Hall. Jane didn't know what sort of class McGonagall taught, but she knew she wouldn't be putting so much as a toe out of line in front of her.

The Great Hall was magnificent. Hermione had been right—the ceiling did look like the night sky and the floating candles even gave the impression that the stars were hanging low into the room. The line stopped abruptly while Jane was looking at the ceiling and she trod on Ron's robe. They had stopped in front of four tables of students—Jane could see the Weasleys and their friends at one of them. They smiled at her, but she noticed they were looking at the center of the room, where an old, dirty-looking hat was sitting on a stool. Jane looked at it, too, and jumped when it began to sing.

She listened, enraptured, to the song, describing the Hogwarts founders and the houses. She needed to see if Hermione would let her borrow _Hogwarts: a History_.

That is, if they were in the same house.

Suddenly, Jane was gripped by a cold fear that she might be with strangers. She'd never had friends before today and she'd met so many people already. She had to be with someone she knew and not with Pansy and the girls who reminded her of Dudley.

Professor McGonagall was already calling the first student forward, a blonde girl named Hannah Abbott. She put the hat on and Jane watched intently to see what she had to do.

Hannah didn't do anything. She only sat there for a moment and the Sorting Hat cried out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Hannah took off the hat and hurried over to join the Hufflepuffs. Being sorted didn't look so bad.

Jane watched, heart pounding, as the number of students waiting to be sorted dwindled.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione darted out from next to Jane and put the hat on. It took a bit of time and Jane wondered what the hat was doing.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted. Jane relaxed a bit as Hermione went over to join the table where the Weasleys and their friends were sitting. That was it. She wanted Gryffindor.

Her feeling was even further confirmed when Neville went there, as well, and Pansy went to Slytherin.

"Potter, Jane!"

Jane walked forward woodenly, heart pounding. Every single eye was on her and she could hear people whispering. Why? Why did they care?

She sat on the stool and put on the hat, letting it block her vision of the hall.

"Very interesting," said a small voice. Jane jumped. What was that? Was that the hat? "I see you already have a preference."

Jane was afraid to speak. All she could think about was Neville and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, the helpful brothers and the friendly older girls.

"You know," the hat said, "you would do well in Slytherin. I can feel it. Great things, you're capable of great things."

With a sickening thought, Jane remembered Ollivander's words about Lord Voldemort. Great things.

"Very well. If you insist… GRYFFINDOR!"

When Jane pulled the hat off, the Gryffindor table was erupting with cheers. The twins' friend Angelina moved over to make room for her and Fred leaned over to ruffle her hair.

"What'd I say?" he said, grinning. "I was right, wasn't I?"

All Jane could do was nod and smile at Hermione. She had friends! Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought perhaps Hermione was having the same thought.

Gradually, the number of students dwindled until only Ron and a few more were left to be sorted. She hadn't spoken much to him, but Jane found herself hoping Ron would be in Gryffindor, too, with his family.

And—after a brief pause under the hat—he was.

He looked very relieved as he came to sit down on Fred's other side. "Troll," he spat at his brother, but Fred just laughed.

Now the sorting was finished and the Headmaster rose. He was a very old man with a long white beard and Jane thought he looked exactly how she would have expected a wizard to look.

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat down. Jane looked around at the other students. No one seemed to bat an eye at this. Perhaps they were used to it.

The plates on the table were suddenly covered with food and Jane found herself forgetting about this mad old man. Everything looked so delicious she didn't know where to start.

And, she realized for the first time, she could eat however much she liked, without Aunt Petunia snapping at her and piling more food on Dudley's plate.

Everything was just as good as it looked, too. Jane loaded a little bit of everything onto her plate and listened to the conversations around her. People were talking about their families, about something called Quidditch and the House Cup.

Hermione was telling Angelina all about dentists when Jane looked up, right into the eyes of a teacher at the staff table, a man with a hook nose and greasy black hair. He stared at her, eyes wide, and Jane felt a sudden shooting pain in her scar. She clapped a hand to it and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the teacher had looked away.

"Who's that man?" she asked Fred.

"Who, Snape? He's the Potions master. You'd better watch out around him. He doesn't like anyone much, but he especially loathes Gryffindors. He's Head of Slytherin, and he's always taking points from us to make them look good. It's ruddy unfair. He's the reason we've lost the House Cup for the past six years and the Quidditch Cup, too."

Only half-listening, Jane let Fred tell her about Quidditch. She didn't much like Muggle sport, but anything magical sounded interesting. She wanted to see a flying broomstick.

All the while Fred was talking, Jane watched the staff table. She spotted Kettleburn and he gave her a bit of a salute and Hagrid gave her a wave so wide he almost knocked a very small professor right off his chair. However, for the rest of the feast, Snape didn't look up from his meal, even after he'd emptied his plate.

* * *

After the feast, Jane and the other first-year Gryffindors followed Percy and his female counterpart, Samantha Fowler, out of the Great Hall and up a marble staircase. It seemed that they were climbing forever, and Percy announced they were on the seventh floor, at the base of Gryffindor Tower.

They came to a stop in front of a portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress.

"Hello, dears," she said. "Welcome back. Password?"

"Caput draconis," Percy said, and the fat lady's portrait swung open to reveal the common room beyond. Jane and the others climbed through the hole and assembled in the center of the perfectly round room. It looked very inviting, with lots of comfy-looking chairs and red hangings. There was a fire roaring merrily in the grate and Jane suddenly felt very sleepy.

"Now," Percy began, "it's very important that you all remember the password. It changes frequently, but you won't be able to get into the common room without it."

"Caput draconis," Jane whispered to herself. It sounded like a magic spell.

"Now, off to bed with you. Boys, follow me; girls, go with Samantha."

At the back of the common room, there were two spiral staircases across from each other. Jane, Hermione and two other girls followed Samantha up the one on the left; Ron, Neville, and the two other boys followed Percy up with one on the right. They climbed all the way to the top of the tower until Samantha pushed open a door marked _First Years_.

The room was round like the common room, with four four-poster beds with red hangings. Hermione and Jane found their trunks at the foot of their beds, right next to each other. Someone had let Crookshanks out of his carrier and he was curled up on Jane's bed, sleeping.

"I expect you've all had a long day," Samantha said. "Why don't you go right to bed?"

That sounded like a good idea to Jane. When they changed into their pajamas, Jane was somewhat self-conscious about hers—an old T-shirt of Dudley's.

She noticed the other two girls staring at her. She recognized one of them as the twin who had been nice to Neville on the train. She assumed they were staring at her scar.

"Are you really Jane Potter?" asked the blonde girl in a small voice.

"Yeah." Jane pushed her hair back so they could see more clearly.

"Wow," they both said.

"Do you remember anything?" the twin asked.

Jane shook her head. "I didn't even know about magic. I live with my relatives. They're Muggles."

"I can't imagine not knowing. I'm Parvati, by the way."

"I'm Lavender," the blonde said, still looking at Jane somewhat cautiously.

"And I'm Hermione," said Hermione.

Lavender clapped her hands together. "Oh, I can't believe I'm going to be roommates with _Jane Potter_!"

"Yeah." Jane twisted her hair around her finger. "I can't believe I _am_ Jane Potter."

"It must be strange," Parvati observed, getting into bed. "To not know you're famous."

"You don't know the half of it."

They said good night to each other and got into bed. Jane hoped she would get used to being famous soon.

"Good night, Hermione," she whispered to her new friend. That was the best part, no matter being famous or being a witch. She had a friend now.

"Good night, Jane." Crookshanks meowed and she added, "Good night, Crookshanks."

Jane waited for her roommates to drop off, one by one. She was almost too excited to sleep. She'd never slept anywhere but her cupboard. It was almost overwhelming—new friends, new classes.

When Jane finally slipped into sleep, she didn't remember her dream.


	3. Just One of the Girls

**Chapter Three**

**Just One of the Girls**

Jane's first few days at Hogwarts passed in a rush of new people, places and things to keep track of. She felt lucky to have Hermione as a friend. The other girl had a phenomenal memory and was the only thing keeping Jane from getting lost on the way to her classes.

The biggest disappointment when Jane received her schedule from Professor McGonagall was that she didn't have Care of Magical Creatures. Fred told her this was a third-year class; he, George, and Lee had just started it, and they thought it and Kettleburn were brilliant, so Jane told the story of her rescue from the Dursleys' to a rapt audience of Gryffindors.

There were other disappointments, too. As much as she tried to reach out to Ron Weasley, he didn't seem to want to be friends with her.

"Don't worry about it," George told her Friday morning at breakfast. "Ron can be slow to warm up sometimes, but he'll come around." He craned his neck to see her timetable. "You've got Potions this morning?"

Jane nodded.

George made a face. "Good luck. Listen, Snape likes to spring a sort of pop quiz on the first years. Likes to see if they've been reading." Hermione's ears perked up.

"I looked at my books," Jane said.

"Then you should be fine. He just hates people who don't read."

Jane knew _Hermione_ would be fine, but she wasn't so sure about herself, as she trooped down to the dungeons with Hermione and Neville. She remembered how Snape had looked at her at the start of term feast.

The Gryffindors had Potions with the Slytherins, which mean Pansy Parkinson and her friends.

"It's a pity you're in Gryffindor, Parvati," Pansy said, as they all sat in the classroom, "hanging about with this lot."

"I _like_ being in Gryffindor," Parvati fired back. "Everyone in here's _nice_."

At that moment, the door to the Potions classroom flew open and Snape stormed in. He cast a glance at Jane as he passed her desk, but looked away quickly. "Silence as I take the roll."

Jane waited with bated breath as he reached her name. "Jane Potter." He looked up at her, but didn't meet her eyes. Instead, his gaze seemed directed to her forehead, like he was looking at her scar.

Then, he went back to the roll, as if nothing had even happened. Jane was bracing herself for the quiz.

When he'd finished the roll, Snape paused.

"Miss Potter," he said, in a silky voice, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Jane licked her lips, trying to remember what she'd read. "The—The Draught of Living Death?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Correct." He paused for a moment and then asked, "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Jane's stomach seized. "Aren't they the same?"

He stared at her for a long time. "Yes," he said softly. "They are. Weasley! Can you tell me where I might find a bezoar?"

Ron stared, open-mouthed. Beside Jane, Hermione's hand shot into the air. Snape ignored her.

"Well, Weasley? Do you mean to tell me you haven't read your textbook?"

Hermione almost knocked Jane over as she stretched her hand higher. Ron glowered at Snape.

"I don't know," he said. "This is the first class."

Snape scowled. "Five points from Gryffindor for not being prepared for class."

Ron said nothing, but he gripped his quill very hard.

Then, Snape spun on Hermione. "Miss… Granger," he said, consulting the roll. "Can you tell me why we must keep Ashwinder eggs frozen in the lab?"

Jane knew the answer, so Hermione definitely did. "They're flammable, sir," she said proudly. "They're some of the most volatile potions ingredients presently in use."

Snape inclined his head. "Very good."

Snape asked different students different questions, but he never asked anyone else two questions. Then, once he'd set them to making the boil-curing potion, he criticized all the other Gryffindors' work, but seemed to glide right past Jane without comment.

When class let out, Jane was glad for the afternoon off. Hermione wanted to check out the library, but Jane urged her to go out and explore the Hogwarts grounds.

"It's so nice out," she said. "We should go outside before it gets cold."

Hermione frowned, but she did follow Jane.

"Well, hello there, girl!" It was Professor Kettleburn, preparing for his afternoon lesson. "Not much time to talk, but I see you're in Gryffindor. Just like your parents; I shouldn't be surprised."

Jane introduced Hermione and Kettleburn and he showed them the bowtruckles he was going to be using with his fifth years.

As they walked back up to the school, Jane saw the gamekeeper's hut and Hagrid sitting in front of it. He waved at her and she waved back.

At least most people at Hogwarts were nice.

* * *

That night as they were getting ready for bed, Jane glanced over at Hermione. She supposed now would be a good time as any to tell her. Lavender and Parvati hadn't come up yet and this was something Jane wanted to tell Hermione alone, considering she wasn't positive how she'd take it.

She paused in brushing her hair. "Hermione? Can I tell you something?"

"Yes?" Hermione put her bookmark in her book and set it aside.

Jane scooped Crookshanks into her lap. "I'm really glad I met you. I'm really glad we're friends."

Hermione smiled. "I'm glad we're friends, too."

"Because…" Jane looked down at Crookshanks. He gave her what she decided to take as an encouraging look. "You're my first friend."

She didn't look up, so she was surprised when Hermione sat down next to her on her bed. "Really, Jane? I'm your first friend."

Jane tore her eyes away from Crookshanks and looked up at Hermione. She swallowed hard. "Yeah. You are."

A small smile spread across Hermione's face. "Well." She swiped at her eye. "You're my first friend, too."

Jane didn't know what to say. For all she knew, Hermione came from the kind of family Jane had always wanted. She'd never thought about it, but in the back of her mind, Jane had always assumed that she had had friends before. After all, Jane was supposed to be the weird one.

"I think," Hermione went on, "the other children thought I was a bit strange. It started early in primary school and then I just sort of never had any friends, and then I never made any friends. It was probably because I was a witch—that's why they thought I was strange. Probably you, too, right?"

Jane nodded. "Yeah. They thought I was weird, too."

Hermione got into her own bed. "How did you know you were a witch? I mean, I know you said Professor Kettleburn came to your house—Professor Sinistra came to mine—but did anything ever happen to you when you were young?"

"Oh, yeah, loads. I reckon that's why the Dursleys hated me." Hermione frowned at this, but Jane had been used to it. She told Hermione about the incident with the needle.

"That's interesting," Hermione said. "I used to make things explode."

"Are you talking about first signs of magic?" Lavender and Parvati had just come in.

"Yes," Hermione said. "You see, I was always interested in books. Ever since I first learned to read, I read anything I could get my hands on. From the time I was about five or so, my parents used to lock up anything that they thought was, well—" Hermione twisted some hair around her finger, looking slightly embarrassed "—too mature for me. There was this cabinet in the library with big glass doors and I could _see_ what was in there, but I couldn't get to it. I'd read everything else in the house at least twice, and I'd stopped being interested in the picture books my mother got for me ages ago. And then, one day, while my mother was in the kitchen, I just unlocked the door and grabbed the first book I saw. Mum thought Dad must've left it unlocked, but I just kept doing it again and again. She was so upset with him. Until one day, she locked it up herself and was almost out of the room when she saw me walk right up to the cabinet and unlock the door."

Hermione looked pleased with herself, but Lavender and Parvati didn't seem to think this was terribly interesting.

"When I was a baby, I used to Summon things into my cot," Lavender said. "But my parents are wizards. There was magic going on in the house and I knew I could do it. That's supposed to help." She smiled. "And it's supposed to be good luck to have first signs before two."

"I have no idea," Hermione said. "My parents wouldn't have known what it was. We only know looking back."

"And I wouldn't know," Jane said. "There's no one to tell me what I did when I was a baby."

The other girls were silent after this.

"I had my first signs at my grandmother's," Parvati finally said. "In India. She thought _that_ was good luck. It's really good luck while you're traveling."

Jane thought for a moment. "What about at the zoo? Does that count as traveling?"

"The zoo?"

"Yeah." Jane sat up. "I went to the zoo last summer. There was a snake there and it said it had never seen Brazil. Then the glass was gone. I must've done that. I hope he's got to Brazil by now. He seemed nice."

"It… what?" Lavender asked. She had drawn her knees up to her chest and was very pale. "It _told_ you? How?"

Jane shrugged. "It talked. Like normal. Like we are. I figured that was magic."

Lavender shook her head vigorously. "Jane, that's not normal. It's… it's Parseltongue. It's a Dark ability."

Jane felt her stomach drop, but Parvati snapped, "No, it's not. Honestly! It's perfectly normal in India. Well," she added sheepishly, "not perfectly normal exactly, but it's not Dark, either. After all, it's just a snake. The animal itself isn't Dark. Not like it's a Basilisk or something."

Lavender shuddered. "They just give me the creeps."

"So because they give you the creeps, it must be Dark?" Parvati looked back at Jane. "Don't worry about it, Jane. You're all right."

Jane was worried now, though. "Don't tell anybody, all right? If it's weird… I mean… I didn't know there was anything special about it and I swear I'm not Dark. It was an accident."

"We won't tell anyone," Lavender said quickly. "Don't worry, Jane."

Hermione and Parvati nodded.

"Thanks." Jane turned out her bedside light. As she lay awake in the dark, all she could remember now was that the Sorting Hat had wanted to put her in Slytherin and that Slytherin House's symbol was the snake.

* * *

The highlight of their second week of classes was the announcement of flying lessons. Jane remembered Fred talking about flying broomsticks, so she knew that was something wizards did for sport. Maybe this would be like PE.

"Is flying difficult?" she asked Percy, when he'd come by the table she and Hermione shared in the common room one evening. He liked to do that, check in on the first years, and Jane appreciated it.

"I don't think so," Percy said, nudging his glasses up on his nose. "It's not for everyone, but I think it's essential these days. Why, what with magic carpets being illegal and all. Flying is what you do if you can't Apparate, or aren't near a fire for Flooing, or haven't got a Portkey."

Jane nodded, though she didn't know what all of those were.

"Is it…" Hermione paused. "Do you have to go very high?"

"They start you out low," Percy assured her. "We don't all have to go out for Quidditch. But we do all have to learn to fly. But don't worry! The broomstick will respond to anyone with magic, as long as they're not scared. There's not really much skill to it unless you're doing trick flying, or racing, or some such."

Hermione looked relieved. "I don't really like… being high up," she confessed.

"That's perfectly all right," Percy said. "You'll be a splendid flyer."

Hermione nodded, but she didn't look certain.

On Thursday, the first-year Gryffindors assembled on the lawn where flying lessons would be held to discover with dismay that the class would be shared with the Slytherins.

"First Potions and now this," Jane heard Ron say to Seamus in dismay.

"What, Weasley?" drawled a blond boy with a pale, pointed face. "Don't you want to see how proper flying's done?"

Ron snorted. "I'd like to see you try, Malfoy, on these old things."

"'These old things'? I would think the school brooms would be like a Nimbus Two Thousand compared to what you must have at home."

"Quiet down!" said a voice, before Ron had a chance to retort. Madam Hooch, the flying teacher, was crossing the lawn. "Everyone choose a broom."

Jane stood next to Hermione, who still looked nervous.

"Now," Madam Hooch said. "Hold your hand out over your broom and say, 'UP!'"

"UP!" they all shouted.

Jane's broom floated into her hand as if it were sinking up. Hermione's simply rolled over. Ron's and Malfoy's had sprung into their hands. Neville's hadn't moved.

Madam Hooch sighed. "You may have to simply pick the broom up until you get the hang of it."

The rest of them did.

Then, they set to mounting the brooms. Jane adjusted her grip per Madam Hooch's instructions and she could tell Hermione was flustered to have gotten it wrong, despite having talked to Percy and read two library books.

Neville, though, was even more nervous. He was so jumpy that he shot into the air before they were all ready and promptly fell off his broom. Jane clapped her hand to her mouth, watching in terror as he hit the ground with a sickening thump. Jane was terrified of the worst, but Madam Hooch approached as though he'd only tripped.

"Oh dear," she said, "broken wrist. We'd best get you to the hospital wing." She looked at the rest of them. "Now, none of you move an inch until I've come back."

She hurried off and, predictably, everyone moved.

"Well, look here." Malfoy reached for something in the grass. It was a round glass ball. "Look what he's forgotten."

"That's Neville's Remembrall!" Ron shouted. "Give it back!"

"Why don't you come and get it, Weasley?" Malfoy swung a leg over his broom and pushed off into the air. He made it look easy. "Let's see how your Comet One-Forty's prepared you."

"I haven't got a Comet One-Forty," Ron spat as he, too, mounted his broom. "It's a Shooting Star," he muttered.

"Get him, mate!" Seamus exclaimed.

"Ron, stop!" Jane said, reaching for the end of Ron's robe. "You'll fall."

"Worried about your boyfriend, Potter?" Pansy Parkinson asked.

"He's not my boyfriend," Jane said.

"I won't _fall_," Ron snapped. "Let go. I've certainly been flying more than _you_." He jerked his broom so he was out of Jane's grasp and floated higher. Her heart stopped pounding somewhat—he really did know how to fly.

Then, once his broom was level, he shot after Malfoy. Jane and some of the others ran after them, following their progress. Then Malfoy drew his hand back. He was going to drop the Remembrall… no, he was going to throw it.

Ron seemed to notice at the same time Jane did. He pointed his broom to where the Remembrall was going to be and shot forward. The ball arced through the sky toward Ron and slipped right through his fingers.

"JANE!" he yelled.

Jane looked up. The Remembrall was dropping right toward her.

She shrieked and covered her head. The Remembrall landed a few inches away, bouncing harmlessly on the grass. Jane picked it up.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Professor McGonagall was marching toward her across the lawn. Jane felt her stomach drop.

"Professor, I didn't—"

But McGonagall didn't seem to notice her. "Weasley! Malfoy! Come down from there at once."

Both of them descended slowly, looking angry.

"Fifteen points from each of your houses," McGonagall said sternly.

Ron scowled at Jane. "Thanks," he muttered.

* * *

"I don't understand him!" Jane exclaimed as threw her bag down on her bed. "I didn't do anything!"

"Boys are stupid," Parvati said. "It's an immutable law of the universe."

"Oh, I don't know," Lavender said with a giggle. "They're not all stupid. Seamus Finnegan is kind of cute."

"Cute doesn't mean not stupid," Parvati said. "Seamus set fire to his match instead of turning it into a needle."

"Well," Lavender said. "That's what matches are _for_. How often in daily life will you change a match into a needle?" She flopped down on her bed. "I just think he's cute! Those blue eyes! Who do you think is the cutest boy in our year?"

Jane blinked. She realized Lavender was asking her. "Um," she said. "I guess Seamus is cute."

"I like Draco Malfoy," Parvati said. "As long as he doesn't open his mouth."

"He looks like a ferret," Lavender said.

Jane had never really thought about boys before. She was just used to Dudley's gang and the other boys teasing her. Now, she ran through all the boys she knew of at Hogwarts, trying to decide if any of them were cute.

"What about Neville?" she hazarded.

Lavender made a face. "Cute but chubby. He seems a little young."

"What about Oliver Wood?" Parvati sighed. "He's dreamy."

"Oh, I like him!" Jane said. "He's nice."

"Jane likes Quidditch boys!" Lavender squealed. "What's your favorite position?"

Jane stared. "My what?"

"Quidditch position! I guess you like Keepers, if you like Oliver."

"Keepers are nice," Parvati allowed. "I like Seekers, though."

Jane had no idea why the position the boy played even mattered.

"Listen." Lavender lowered her voices and glanced around the room conspiratorially. "Have any of you ever kissed a boy?"

"No," Parvati said.

"No," Jane said.

"Hermione?"

"Oh." Hermione looked up from her book. "No, I haven't."

"Really?" Lavender eyed Hermione's chest, which Jane now realized was the largest of the four girls'. "You're the oldest in our year, right?"

"I'll be twelve next week."

Lavender sighed. "I can't wait until I need a real bra."

Jane could see Hermione turning red. "It's not that special. When you're the first, you get made fun of."

"True." Lavender studied Parvati and Jane. "You don't wear a bra, do you, Jane?"

"No," Jane said faintly. Aunt Petunia had told her never to talk about things like this.

"And you're younger than me, Parvati. It isn't fair."

"By two weeks. That doesn't have anything to do with it."

"What day's your birthday, Hermione?" Jane asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

"It's Thursday." Hermione looked relieved. "The nineteenth."

Lavender sighed again. "And I have to wait all the way until _June_ to be twelve. I'm sure Hermione will be miles ahead of me by then."

Hermione had gone back to her book, but from her angle, Jane could see her friend had an amused smile on her face.

* * *

Jane had never attended any birthday party besides Dudley's, much less thrown one, but now that she knew Hermione's birthday was next week, she couldn't not do something for her first ever friend.

"I need your help," she said to Fred and George, cornering them in the common room before Hermione had come down for dinner.

"We aim to serve," Fred said. "What can we do for you, Janie?"

"Well, it's Hermione's birthday on Thursday, and I've only just found out and—"

"Ah, say no more, say no more." George patted her shoulder. "Last-minute surprise parties are our specialty. Leave it to us."

Jane had a very funny feeling when he said that that maybe this was not the best idea.

On Thursday, after classes, Jane steered Hermione back to the common room as instructed.

"But what about dinner?"

"Sorry, Hermione, I've forgotten something. Caput draconis." The Fat Lady's portrait swung open and the girls climbed through.

"Surprise!" cried a cluster of Gryffindors. Jane could see everyone in their year, plus assorted older students, including the twins' friends, Percy, and Samantha.

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. Then, she looked behind her, as though the person they were actually throwing the party for was behind her.

"Happy birthday, Hermione," said Fred and George.

"You did this?" Hermione stared at the twins in shock. "But how?"

They seized Jane's shoulders and nudged her forward. "This is the one you want," said George. "It was her idea. We just helped."

"Happy birthday, Hermione," Jane said, with a smile.

The twins had gotten loads of food from who knew where (when Percy tried to ask them, Fred shoved a piece of cake in his mouth) and the common room was soon full of happy chatter.

"This is wonderful," Hermione told Jane, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. "I know you only found out a week ago. Thanks."

Jane grinned. "What are friends for?"

Suddenly, there was a commotion across the room. Crookshanks, who must have snuck down from the girls' dormitory, was sitting on Ron Weasley's shoulder, pawing at his robes. "Augh, Jane!" he cried. "Do something about this animal!"

Jane put her plate down. "No, Crookshanks! Come here."

Crookshanks obediently jumped down from Ron and trotted over to Jane and Hermione. Hermione scooped him up. "Did he scare you, Crooks?" she cooed.

Ron scowled. "It's not him you should be worried about; it's Scabbers!" He plucked his rat from the table where he'd been munching Ron's treacle tart. "He can't do with too many more shocks at his age."

"Then keep him in your dormitory where he's safe," Jane said.

"Why don't you keep that _thing_ in your dormitory?"

Jane crossed her arms over her chest. "Crookshanks likes to stretch his legs!"

"Why can't Scabbers, then?"

"He's a rat. He doesn't get exercise; he's always in your pocket."

Ron scowled.

Jane turned back to Hermione and her plate of cake. Boys really were stupid.

There was plenty to distract her at Hogwarts other than worrying about Ron. Before she knew it, it was Halloween. The twins had told her there would be a spectacular feast and Jane's mouth was watering just thinking about it.

"The decorations are really amazing," Angelina was telling her, as they sat in the common room. "Flitwick does them, usually, and he goes all out."

Jane was so excited she could barely concentrate on her Charms homework, even though they'd learned levitation. Hermione, who was watching from a chair nearby, said suddenly, "What's that you're working on?"

"This?" Angelina handed Hermione her parchment. It was covered in writing Jane couldn't identify. "Ancient Runes. You can start that third year. Sometimes I think I should've done what Fred and George did and taken Divination."

"It's easy because they make it up," Alicia said. "Trelawney doesn't notice."

"At least we're creative," George said. "Now, what body part should I lose to a rampaging Hebridean Black?"

"Your head," Fred said. "She'll love that."

George snickered and scribbled that on his parchment. Jane thought Divination didn't sound like a very pleasant subject.

"Well, that's good enough, I'd say." George slammed _Unfogging the Future_ shut. "Let's head down."

Jane and Hermione followed the third years down to the Great Hall, Hermione still talking eagerly with Angelina about Ancient Runes.

The Halloween feast was just as good as Jane had imagined, though she didn't have a chance to take more than a bite before Professor Quirrell came running into the Great Hall.

"Troll!" he cried, falling against the staff table. "In the dungeons. Thought you ought to know."

Jane's first thought was _Trolls are real?,_ but this was obviously a bit slow because Alicia was pulling her to her feet, as Professor Dumbledore ordered the prefects to lead the students back to their dormitories.

"Come on," Alicia said. "Trolls are nothing to play around with. They can be deadly."

Jane fell in line behind Hermione as they headed out of the Great Hall, following Percy to the stairs. As they mounted the steps to the third floor, Jane saw a flash of red out of the corner of her eye.

"Ron—" she started, reaching her hand out, but he was gone, pushing past some Ravenclaws as he rushed down the steps. Oh no. She grabbed the back of Hermione's robes, pulling her aside. Alicia turned, but Oliver pushed between them and she didn't seem to realize Jane and Hermione were gone.

"Ron's gone back down," she hissed in Hermione's ear. "He's gone after the troll, I reckon."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "No. Oh, Jane, he'll get in so much trouble. _We'll_ get in so much trouble. We have to tell Percy."

"Are you kidding?" Jane looked back over her shoulder. The Gryffindors were far above them. They had not been missed. "He could be _killed_."

Hermione seemed to take a moment to decide what was worse—lost house points or death.

"All right," she said, "but this is the only time I'm _ever _doing anything like this."

By this time, the corridors were empty and Jane and Hermione hurried down the steps. It was eerily quiet without the students clomping up and down. Jane pulled Hermione into the shadow of a suit of armor, just off the second floor landing, as someone coming up the stairs passed them.

"Was that Ron?"

"No," Hermione whispered. "That was Professor Snape. Why's he going _up_?"

"I don't know. At least he didn't see us. Let's go." Jane took her wand out of her pocket and pulled Hermione in the opposite direction to where Snape had gone.

They had only taken a few steps before they heard a shout of pain.

"_That_ was Ron!" Hermione took off in the direction it had come from down the second-floor corridor, Jane at her heels.

Ron had apparently followed the troll into a bathroom on the second floor. Jane did wonder how it had gotten up from the dungeons, but that didn't matter now. The troll had Ron cornered against the far wall. It swung its club menacingly, clearing a row of sinks off the wall, spraying Jane and Hermione with water. They hadn't been noticed yet.

Hermione let out a groan of frustration and whipped out her wand. "_Rictusempra_!"

The spell seemed to do nothing but get the troll's attention to turn to Jane and Hermione. It moved away from him and charged towards them.

"Bugger," Hermione muttered. She and Jane dodged apart, just as the troll's club came slamming into the tile where they'd been standing.

"A Tickling Charm?" Ron snapped. "Really?"

"_You_ try something," Hermione shot back.

Ron raised his wand. "_Flipendo_!"

The troll staggered, giving Jane and Hermione time to run to Ron. "Maybe together," Hermione said hurriedly.

Ron gave her a funny look, but the troll roared again and he nodded firmly. "Yeah. Count of three. One, two, three."

"_FLIPENDO_!" the three of them shouted together.

The troll was thrown flat on its back and its head hit the floor hard. It looked dazed—still conscious, but dazed. Jane, Ron, and Hermione bolted for the door.

"What do you three think you're _doing_?"

Professor McGonagall's voice made Jane's blood run cold. She was standing a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest.

"Professor—" Hermione began.

Jane glanced at Ron, who looked sheepish.

"We thought we could handle it," Hermione said suddenly. Jane and Ron both turned to look at her. "I'd read about trolls, you see, and—" She stopped. McGonagall looked furious.

"We'll sort this out later," she said. "Go to your common room _immediately_ until we can be sure it is safe. Then we can work out the details of your punishment."

"Well," Ron said, as they climbed the stairs back to Gryffindor Tower. "Now we're all in trouble. Are you happy now?"

Jane wasn't sure what to say. When they climbed through the portrait hole, the first thing they saw was Fred and George at the front of the crowd of people eager to hear the story.

"Did you see it?" George asked.

"Did you get it?" That was Fred.

Ron gaped, open-mouthed. "Yeah!" he said, looking pleased with himself. "I knocked it out. I mean, Jane and Hermione helped… _we _knocked it out."

Percy looked furious. "You could have been killed! You know I'll have to tell Mum. This is the kind of thing I expect from _them_." He jabbed a finger at the twins and, judging by Ron's smile, Jane supposed this was the wrong thing say.


	4. Wanderings With Weasleys

**Chapter Four**

**Wanderings With Weasleys**

Ron's celebrity was short-lived. The next day at breakfast, the three of them all received identical notes by owl post. Their detention would take place at 11:00 that night and they were to meet Hagrid in the Entrance Hall.

"You'll be fine with Hagrid," Fred said. "He's nice. I _wish_ we could have detention from him."

"We usually wind up with Filch," George explained. "Detention with Hagrid only works the first couple of times, usually. It's not a real deterrent, and they're onto us by now."

Hermione sniffed. "Well, that will work out perfectly, because I don't intend to get detention again."

That evening, Jane, Hermione, and Ron headed down to the entrance hall together. Winter was well on its way, and they were bundled up in scarves and heavy cloaks.

"Why did you do it, anyway?" Hermione asked, as they descended the stairs. "What possessed you to go after that troll?"

Ron scowled. "I wanted those points back. I've only _lost_ points for Gryffindor. I haven't gotten any back."

"Well, then, you should be concentrating on classwork and—"

"_And_," Ron interrupted, "you don't have five brothers. My brother Bill got twelve OWLs, Charlie was brilliant at Quidditch… you know about Percy and Fred and George."

"But you're only in first year, Ron," Jane said. "You've got plenty of time to do all of those things."

Ron shrugged.

"Right now you're just lucky you didn't lose any more points," Hermione said. "_That's_ what we should be worried about."

Hagrid looked out of place in the Entrance Hall, almost as if he was too large to be inside.

"Janie!" he exclaimed when they got off the stairs. "Haven't got a good look at yeh yet. Las' time I saw yeh properly yeh were a wee thing."

Jane stopped in her tracks.

"Didn' know that, did you?" Hagrid grinned. "I said yeh looked just like yer mum."

"You did," Jane agreed. "So, you knew them?"

"Yeah, knew 'em well." He cleared his throat. "But righ' now." He surveyed the three of them. "Yer havin' detention."

Jane, Ron, and Hermione followed Hagrid outside and across the lawn toward the Forbidden Forest. It looked even darker and more threatening in the black of night.

"We're not going _in_ there, are we?" Hermione asked. "We aren't allowed."

"Nothin'll hurt you if I'm around." They reached the edge of the forest and Hagrid stopped. There was a huge lantern sitting there, which he lit and handed to Jane. Then he handed a bucket each to Ron and Hermione.

"What's _in_ this?" Ron cried, looking green in the lantern light.

"Dinner!" Hagrid declared. "We're goin' ter visit some friends o' mine. They'll be needin' their dinner."

Hermione said nothing, but even she looked queasy. Jane could now see the buckets were full of raw meat.

"Professor Kettleburn was tellin' me how much yeh like animals, Janie." They followed Hagrid into the forest. "I think yeh'll really like Aragog."

Jane was suddenly intrigued. She'd been wanting to see magical creatures—now she would be getting the chance to.

"Raised Aragog from an egg, I did," Hagrid was saying. "I was in school at the time… had ter have been fifty years ago by now, but Aragog's still the picture of health…"

Was Aragog a bird, then? Jane thought of all the birds in _Fantastic Beasts_. There were augureys, diricawls, even phoenixes... and then there were things like grindylows that hatched from eggs but weren't birds, but grindylows would be in the lake.

They walked for what seemed like a long time. Jane was beginning to get nervous; she could tell Ron and Hermione already were.

"How far are we from where Aragog lives?" Hermione asked.

"Not far now." Hagrid shifted his crossbow on his shoulder. There was a skittering in the forest that made Ron jump. "Yeh like spiders, Janie?"

Jane was about to reply in the affirmative when they stepped into a clearing. Ron let out a strangled cry of fear and dropped his bucket.

There were spiders in the clearing, but they weren't anything like the spiders in Jane's cupboard. The smallest was at least twelve times as wide as Lee's tarantula, which had sat quite comfortably on top of Jane's head. They were acromantulas.

"Hello there, Aragog," Hagrid said cheerfully. He was oblivious to Ron's expression as he picked the bucket up. "Thought yeh might want a treat."

Ron's mouth was still open in a silent scream. Hermione's knees were knocking together and Jane wondered for a moment why the patch of light was dancing before she realized the lantern was shaking in her hands.

"You have brought more humans," the acromantula said. "Are they this treat?"

Ron yelped and grabbed Jane's arm, but Hagrid laughed as if the spider had made a funny joke.

"O' course not, Aragog. They're students, from up at the school. They've got detention, so they're helpin' me a bit." Hagrid tried and failed to look stern. Jane didn't think Aragog knew or cared what detention was.

"Very well." Aragog sounded disappointed. The other spiders gathered round and Ron grabbed Jane tighter, causing the lantern to swing wildly. It had the effect of making the spiders look even more terrifying. Evidently, Hermione was too frightened to move.

Hagrid began tossing meat to the spiders, looking as cheerful as the sea lion tamer at the zoo. "You kids can feed 'em, too, yeh know," he said.

None of them moved.

The spiders scuttled forward, grasped the meat in their pincers and… Jane had to hide her eyes at this point. Blindly, she reached over and grabbed Hermione, pulling her against Ron and herself.

"Thanks," Hermione said shakily.

"Spiders," Ron said in a quavery voice.

It seemed like hours, but it couldn't have been, by the time Hagrid announced he was finished.

"See yeh later, Aragog!" he cried merrily, and there was the sound of the spiders moving away.

Jane chanced a look outside of their huddle. The spiders were gone.

"Now," Hagrid said. "Yeh won't get a treat like this every time yeh have detention with me, so think about that next time yeh go gettin' inter trouble."

"We will," Ron said thickly, still clutching Jane's cloak. "We'll _definitely_ think about this before we break another rule."

Hagrid looked satisfied.

On the way back through the forest, they were far jumpier. Jane's eagerness to see magical creatures had long since dissipated.

Hagrid was oblivious to their mood, instead talking about how he'd acquired Aragog and his wife Mosag and how they'd happily reproduced here in the forest. Nobody else thought this was a wonderful thing.

Jane was just thinking that she hoped not all magical beasts were this scary in real life when she saw something step onto the path in front of them.

Immediately, her fear left her.

"Oh my goodness," Hermione breathed. "Is that?"

It was a unicorn.

Jane's heart swelled. This was the kind of thing she'd wanted to see, the kinds of things that the other girls in her class at Muggle school had had on their folders, while Jane had only plain manila, on which she had had to draw her own pictures.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

The unicorn staggered.

"What's wrong with it?" Hermione asked.

"Shhh…" Hagrid held out his arm for them to stay back. "It's wounded. Lemme see if I can—"

Before he could finish his thought, the unicorn bounded off the path and into the forest, leaving a trail of spots of shiny blood. Hagrid sighed.

"I'll have to go after it, see if I can't patch it up." He looked down at Jane, Ron, and Hermione. "You three stay here. I'll be right back." And then Hagrid was gone, crashing off into the forest.

"Stay here," Ron said. "Right." He seemed to realize he was still holding on to Jane and let go.

"At least there aren't any spiders here," she said.

Hermione shuddered. "Don't remind me."

Ron looked green. "Ugh. Spiders. I hate spiders."

"I didn't notice," Jane said.

Ron looked slightly relieved. "You know Fred turned my teddy bear into one? I was three."

"Why would he do that?"

"I broke his—" There was a sliding sound and Ron jumped. "What was that? Is that another one?"

Jane and Hermione pressed in closer to him.

It wasn't an acromantula.

It was a hooded figure, crawling on all fours. Jane couldn't see its face, but she didn't want to. The front of its robes were stained with the unicorn's blood. An unexplainable dread filled Jane as she gripped Ron and Hermione tighter.

It turned to look at them and white-hot pain split Jane's head. She dropped the lantern to clap a hand to her scar and it went out. They could no longer see whatever it was, but they could hear it, moving around them. Ron was whimpering. On her other side, Hermione was muttering something under her breath.

Jane felt something brush her ankles and she screamed. Ron and Hermione screamed, too, and so did the hooded figure. It let out a horrible yell and Jane could hear it crashing away through the trees. Gradually, the sound faded, but the three of them didn't move. Jane was afraid to set foot outside the tight circle they'd formed; she didn't know what else might be out there.

There was another crashing sound and they braced themselves for a third fright, but it was only Hagrid.

"Are yeh all right?" he cried. None of them said anything. "Janie? Ron? Hermione?"

Ron was the first to move. He stepped back from the girls. In the moonlight, Jane could see he was still scared, but was trying to put on a brave face.

"I'm all right," he said. "Don't know what that was, but I'm all right." He was breathing hard. "Jane? Hermione?"

"We're fine," Hermione let go of Jane and pushed her hair out of her face.

"What happened?" Hagrid asked.

"Something," Ron said. "I think… I think it was the thing that hurt the unicorn. Didn't see its face. Don't know if it had a face." His voice shook. "But it's gone now."

"Right," Hermione said, as though she wanted very badly to believe it. "It's gone now. Jane?"

Jane was rubbing her scar. "Did… did anyone else hurt?"

Hagrid grabbed her by the shoulders, looking her all over. "Yeh hurt, Janie?"

"Just my head a bit," she said. "Really, Hagrid, I'm fine."

Hagrid let go of her reluctantly and picked up the lantern. "Well, I'd best get yeh back. I'll look for the unicorn when it's daylight. Come on."

They followed him slowly. Jane wondered why nobody else's head had hurt.

They didn't speak until they'd reached the front door.

"Now get yerselves up to yer common room quick," Hagrid said. "Don't want ter be caught out o' bed."

"Yes, Hagrid," Hermione said. "Good night."

They all said good night and Hagrid closed the big oak front doors. Even the Entrance Hall seemed scary when they were alone and they hurried to the grand staircase, climbing it as quickly as they could. They didn't speak until they were past the Fat Lady's portrait, safe in the Gryffindor common room. It was empty, but the crackling fire seemed comforting. Jane, Ron, and Hermione went to sit by it.

"So," Hermione said, taking the end of her cloak in her hand. "What was that?"

"I don't know," Ron said hollowly. "I don't _want _to know."

"But—" Hermione started and stopped. "But it hurt the unicorn."

Jane and Ron nodded. Somehow, they couldn't ignore this—whatever had hurt that beautiful creature…

"So what do you want to do about it?" Ron slumped back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. "Go back in the forest and look for it?" He shuddered.

"No," Hermione said quickly. "But I thought we might start in the library…"

Despite the late night, Jane had trouble falling asleep. Lavender and Parvati had been asleep for hours and Hermione dropped right off. Jane stayed awake, though, rubbing her forehead. Had it been her scar? No one else had gotten a headache.

She felt a shiver. She didn't want to think about this.

Despite that, she was still thinking about it when dawn broke, hours later.

The next day at breakfast, Ron sat with them. They didn't say anything, but they each knew they were all a little shaky after the encounter in the forest.

Thus, they all jumped a foot when a small gray blur splashed into Jane's pumpkin juice.

"Oh," Ron said. "It's just Errol. He's our owl." He fished him out and shook him off. "He's getting on in years, so—oh no."

"Is Errol all right?" Jane asked.

"Yeah. It's not that." Ron's finger trembled as he pointed at the red envelope tied to Errol's leg. "It's _that_."

"A letter?" Hermione asked.

"A Howler." Ron quickly untied the letter and looked back and forth, as though planning an escape route.

"You'd better open it," Percy said sternly.

"No," said George eagerly. "_Don't _open it. I want to see what happens when you _don't_ open it."

Scowling, Ron tore the letter open. Jane jumped again as Mrs. Weasley's voice exploded out of the envelope.

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY! WHAT WERE YOU EVEN THINKING? THOUGHT YOU COULD TAKE ON A FULL-GROWN MOUNTAIN TROLL ALL BY YOURSELF? YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED! HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY THINK YOU WERE A MATCH FOR A THING LIKE THAT, TWO MONTHS INTO FIRST YEAR? IT'S THE KIND OF BEHAVIOR I EXPECT FROM FRED AND GEORGE—" The twins exchanged high fives. "—NOT FROM YOU. I'D BEEN HOPING YOU WOULD TAKE AFTER PERCY'S EXAMPLE. AT LEAST JANE AND HERMIONE HAD _SENSE_."

Ron's face was buried in his hands. Hermione was looking at him with a very Percyish expression, but Jane felt bad. The Howler burst into flames and turned to ash on Ron's empty plate.

"I'm sorry," Jane said softly.

"Why are you sorry?" he asked, but there wasn't any malice in it.

Jane shrugged. "That seems unfair. You were just trying to make up points for Gryffindor. I understand that."

"Thanks," Ron said, sounding appreciative.

"It was still stupid," Hermione said.

"But it was brave," Jane said. "It was very brave. Very Gryffindor."

Ron busied himself pouring another glass of milk, but Jane could see his face was red.

* * *

"Here," Hermione said. She dropped a pile of dusty books on the library table. "You two look through these, I'll go find more."

Jane and Ron looked up from the astronomy chart they were working on. "What are those?" Ron asked.

"Unicorns," Hermione said.

Ron reached for the book on top of the stack and drew back. It was bright pink with silver sparkles and a picture of a prancing unicorn. Jane took it. Ron selected _When a Horse is Not a Horse: the Equine and the Equinesque_.

"What are we looking for, exactly?" Ron asked, when Hermione had returned with more books.

"Who would want to hurt a unicorn." Hermione said this quietly, though it didn't seem as scary in the daytime, the wintry light streaming in through the high library windows.

Ron opened the book and began paging through it. Jane wasn't sure she wanted to know—yes, she wanted to protect the unicorns and the school, but there was something in the back of her mind that told her she wouldn't like what she found.

There were apparently loads of uses for unicorns and their body parts—their horn and their hair were useful potions ingredients.

"You think it could have been Snape?" Ron suggested, as they ground unicorn hair for their Memory Potion.

"Why?" Jane tipped the Jobberknoll feathers into their cauldron.

Ron looked at her like she was out of her mind. "Because he's _Snape_."

It was true that Snape seemed to take a lot of points from Gryffindor and from Ron in particular, but Jane didn't think he was so bad. More than anything else, he acted like she wasn't there. She didn't think he had met her eyes all term, while he usually had a scowl reserved for Ron, Hermione, or Neville.

"No talking, Weasley," Snape said, as he passed.

Ron just shook his head and gave Jane a look.

As Snape walked away, Jane noticed he was limping.

"Oh, Professor!" she exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

Snape looked at her through hooded eyes. "Perfectly all right, Miss Potter. Thank you for your concern." He turned away instantly, stalking over to Crabbe and Goyle's cauldron.

Parkinson and Davis snickered to each other.

That came back to haunt her after class.

"Oh, Professor!" Parkinson simpered, grabbing Davis's arm. "I'm ever so concerned! If I suck up to you, will you give Gryffindor points?" The Slytherins all laughed. Jane felt her face grow hot and she stalked away with Hermione, Ron, and Neville. She really hated them.

* * *

Jane was happy to see that Ron stuck around with them, even when they weren't in the library. If Jane and Ron partnered in Potions, that left Hermione free to help Neville, who needed all the help he could get.

Perhaps, thought Jane, Hermione was part of the reason Ron was hanging around with them. He did seem to appreciate it when Hermione helped him with his homework, but Jane certainly appreciated Ron's help when it came to flying.

"Now, backwards isn't so difficult," he said to Jane, Hermione, and Neville. Hermione and Neville looked skeptical. While Neville had managed to stay on his broom, he was still far from enjoying flying class as much as Ron did. At least Neville was still better than Crabbe and Goyle, who still needed help staying on their brooms. He looked pleased that Madam Hooch had asked him to help a smaller group. "You just lean forward and _want_ to go backwards." Ron demonstrated, gliding backwards on his broom, his scarf flapping in the wind. "You try."

Jane squared her shoulders. It was somewhat unnerving being this high off the ground, feeling the wind in her hair. She'd gotten the hang of going forward, but she wasn't sure about backward. Slowly, she leaned forward and thought about going backward. With a jerk, her broom lurched backward, and Jane let out a small shriek.

"All right?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. Think so." Jane wrapped her hands more firmly around the handle of her broom.

"Be careful you don't spook it," Ron said. "They do sort of know when you're afraid." He looked at Hermione and Neville when he said this. "Best thing to do is believe you can do it."

Hermione frowned. "But it's so high…"

"Don't worry about that," Ron said. "You've already got up here. The part's done with. Now what are you going to do?"

Hermione blew her hair out of her face. "I'm going to fly backwards," she declared.

"Of course you are. So do just like I told Jane there."

Jane watched them as she glided backward, slowly picking up speed. Flying was sort of fun, actually.

"How are you doing, Neville?" she called to him.

Neville made a face. "I'm just trying to go forward."

"You can do it." Jane hovered beside him. She wasn't all that confident herself, but she remembered some of the things Ron had told her. "You just have to believe in yourself."

"But Malfoy's going to laugh at me if I mess up."

"Is Malfoy looking at you?"

Neville glanced to the side. Malfoy was flying in loops around Parkinson, Davis, and Greengrass. "No."

"Right then." Jane coasted backwards slowly. "Just come to me." She remembered watching Dudley's swimming lessons when she was younger—the Dursleys had certainly never let her even think about swimming, but she'd seen the teacher lead Dudley along, giving him the confidence while he'd been doing most of the work.

That meant Jane would have to let go of the broom.

"Here." She reached out and grabbed Neville's hands. "I've got you, okay?"

Neville nodded.

Jane's heart was pounding. She'd only just figured out how to fly backwards and here she was doing it with no hands. She'd never even flown _forwards_ with no hands.

But if it was all about belief—and Hermione said a lot of magic was—then she just needed to lend some to Neville and it would be all right.

At first, Jane was definitely leading him; his broom followed her dutifully, Neville seemingly just an inconvenience on top of it. Then, slowly, he began to build confidence of his own and Jane let go of his hands.

"I'm doing it!" Neville said triumphantly.

"You are!" Jane agreed. They flew like this for several more feet. "You'll be ready for Quidditch soon enough."

Neville snorted. "Yeah. Quidditch. Bet Malfoy'd pay to see that."

Gryffindor's first Quidditch match was that Saturday. Jane didn't think she'd care, but being part of a house and friends with people on the team meant she at least knew she wanted Gryffindor to win. On Friday afternoon, she found Dean Thomas in the common room, a large banner spread out before him, with a set of paints.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Making a banner." Dean dipped his paintbrush in some red paint and began to write GO GO GRYFFINDOR in large letters. "We haven't got football, see, so I figure we might as well support Quidditch. You want to add something?"

Jane looked at the paints hungrily. She'd always loved to draw, but she'd never had anything so nice. The Dursleys certainly hadn't wanted her to be creative—outside of the occasional art class at school, she'd just drawn with pencils on scratch paper.

"Can I really?"

"Sure. Knock yourself out. You went to Muggle school, right?"

"Yeah." Jane thought for a moment and reached for a quill. She had an idea, based on some of the pictures she'd seen in _Quidditch Through the Ages_, but she wasn't sure if she could do it…

"So, who's your team?"

"My team?" Jane looked up. "You mean Gryffindor?"

"Nah, nah." Dean shook his head. "Footie. I'm a West Ham man, myself."

"Oh, I don't really follow football."

"A rugby girl?" Dean grinned.

"Sorry."

"Cricket?"

Jane giggled. "I'm not one for sport, Dean. I'll give Quidditch a shot, though."

Hermione came up to see what they were doing. "Jane, you're really good!" she exclaimed.

"You think so?" Jane looked down. She'd thought to draw a Quidditch side—so far she'd drawn a Beater, swinging his bat at a Bludger.

"She's right," Dean said, examining the figure. "Did you take art classes?"

Jane shook her head. "Nothing like that. Just a little bit at school."

"Well, you're brilliant."

"Thanks." She ducked her head, a little embarrassed. It felt good to be doing something that was somewhat useful, though.

"I can charm it," Hermione said, pulling out her wand. "I found a spell in a library book. Here." She tapped Jane's Beater with her wand and the figure took a swing at the Bludger, sending it shooting across the top of the banner.

"Wicked," Dean said. "How'd you do that?"

"It's not hard," Hermione said. "It's the same theory behind wizarding paintings."

"Come on, Jane," Dean said. "Let's finish out the side."

Together, they drew the rest of the players, the balls, and the hoops. Hermione charmed them all to move and before long the banner was swarming with players. Dean was clever with phrases and the banner alternated between several. _Stomp Slytherin_ and _Slay the Serpents_ were Jane's favorites, but Hermione had refused to charm the dripping blood on the latter, which contained Dean's very realistic drawing of a lion with an enormous snake in its mouth.

"All right," George said, examining the banner. "Which one's me and which one's Fred?" He studied the two Beaters.

"Er…" Jane hadn't really thought about it.

"That one must be me," Fred said. "He's better-looking."

Jane laughed. "I wasn't even trying to make them you two. I was just thinking about the pictures in the book."

"Clearly you were under a subconscious influence," Fred said, running a hand through his hiar.

"So, this means you're coming, right?" George asked.

"Of course! It's Gryffindor!"

George grinned. "Getting the Quidditch bug, are you?"

Jane grinned and took another swab at the banner with her brush. "We'll see."

All of the first-year Gryffindors sat together for the match. They took over the top row of the stands, so that the banner could be fixed behind them. Jane was glad to have Ron sitting next to her to provide explanation.

"I think our chances are decent," he said. "Our team's pretty young, but they're good. Fred and George say they didn't do so well last year, but now the core of the team's got a year under their belts."

There were only two new members on the team this year—Katie Bell, a Chaser, and Owen Burns, the Seeker. Jane was no expert, but she thought he looked unsure of himself. Fred and George waved their bats at them, and the first years waved back.

At first, seeing Quidditch for real and not in a picture in a book was exciting, though the action proved hard to follow. She'd barely been able to follow football in the Muggle world and there was only one ball involved there.

She thought she'd watch the Beaters, to follow Fred and George, but then she missed all the scoring. When she was watching the Chasers, she couldn't follow where the Bludgers were coming from. Lee's commentary helped some, and so did Ron's, though she kept tuning him out whenever he compared a play in the match to one that had happened in a Chudley Cannons match he'd seen.

It was a close match—both teams had really good Chasers, Jane could tell that much; the Slytherin team were all older boys, so they had size on their side, but the girls on the Gryffindor team were agile and quick. Gryffindor had the better Keeper, too, and the twins made very clever Beaters.

In the end, though, as Ron always said, it came down to the Snitch, and Higgs got there before Owen did. It was a long and disappointing walk back to Gryffindor Tower.

"We'd have gotten it if we had the better Seeker," Ron declared. "Don't know what Wood was thinking, putting him in."

"I heard he was the only near-decent one who tried out," Seamus said.

Ron made a face. "Well. We'll get them next time. We have to beat Hufflepuff."

You would never have known Gryffindor had lost the match by the way Fred and George came bounding up to them later.

"So, what did you think, girls?" Fred asked. "Were we brilliant?"

"Very," Jane said. She barely had an idea of what they had done, but it had probably been brilliant.

As winter descended on the castle, Jane, Ron, and Hermione continued their exploration of the library, but their search proved fruitless. By the time Professor McGonagall came around with a signup sheet for those staying at the school over the Christmas holidays, they had read every book about unicorns and were now scanning potions books, making a list of all potions that contained unicorn parts.

"But you can _buy_ unicorn hair," Ron said, shutting his book and leaning back in his armchair in the common room. "Why would someone go into the forest for one when they could just go to Diagon Alley?"

"Who's going into the forest?" Fred asked, as he and George came up behind them.

"Nobody," Ron said, putting his Charms book on top of the library book.

They had told no one else about that night in the forest. Ron had said he didn't want to give the twins ammunition with regards to the spiders, and all three of them knew without saying not to mention the cloaked figure. Perhaps if they didn't say anything, it wasn't real.

"Listen," George said, "Percy's just had an owl from Mum—we're to stay here for Christmas. They're going to Romania to see Charlie."

Ron made a face.

"Oh no," Fred said. "It'll be brilliant. We'll have the castle to ourselves."

"Are you staying, Jane?" George asked.

"I guess," Jane said. "I doubt the Dursleys would want me to show up and ruin their holiday."

George frowned, but Hermione said suddenly, "Oh, Jane, you can't! Come to our house!"

"Your house?"

"Of course! I mean…" Hermione cast an apologetic glance at the Weasley brothers. "I'm sure it's loads of fun here, but my parents want to meet you."

Jane suddenly felt warm. "Really? Nobody's… nobody's ever asked me over before."

"Nobody?" Ron said, a funny look on his face.

"Yeah." Jane looked at all of them in turn. "You guys are the first friends I ever had. The Dursleys didn't want me to have friends. But you guys are brilliant. You're the best first friends I could ask for."

"So it's settled then," Hermione said. "You're coming to my house for Christmas."

"Yes," George said, "and we get her next year."

They were all smiling at her and Jane smiled back. It felt really good to have friends.

Perhaps they sensed she needed cheering up, or perhaps it was coincidence, but the Weasley twins approached Jane, Ron, and Hermione's couch after dinner.

"All right, you lot," Fred said. "Before you girls go off for Christmas, we need to show you something. We've decided you deserve to be inducted into this particular Hogwarts secret."

"Secret?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"It's really cool," George promised.

Ron raised an eyebrow.

"Don't worry, Ron," Fred said. "It's not a spider."

Ron scowled. "All right. Let's go. Before curfew. I _really_ don't want another detention."

"Ahh, after Percy's job, are you?"

"Can it, Fred."

Jane didn't know what the twins were taking them to see—after her first months in the wizarding world, she would have expected absolutely anything.

"You're not taking us down to the third-floor, are you?" Hermione asked, as they descended the staircase from the fourth floor.

"Why ever would you ask that, Granger?" said George innocently.

Hermione stopped and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Oh, is it death you're worried about? Because it's perfectly safe."

"We went the first night of school."

Hermione's scowl looked increasingly like Professor McGonagall's.

"Maybe she's worried about Filch." Fred turned to George. "Could it be she's worried about Filch, George?"

"Well, if she's worried about Filch, Fred, he's down in the dungeons. Been there a long time. Probably cleaning up a nasty spill."

"And how would you know that?" Hermione asked icily.

"We have our ways," Fred said mysteriously. "Come on. Maybe she doesn't want to come." He draped one arm around Ron's shoulders and the other around Jane's. "Let's take Ronnie and Janie and leave her here, then, if she doesn't want to see it."

"All by herself…"

"…in this dark and empty corridor."

They set off and had only got a few paces before they heard Hermione's footsteps run to catch up.

"I hate you," she muttered.

They were indeed taking them to the third-floor corridor.

"Now." Fred rubbed his hands together as they stood in front of the door. "There's a trick to this. I just hope it's awake. It sleeps an awful lot."

"Awake?" Jane asked faintly.

Fred whipped out his wand. "And now. If you'll do the honors, George. _Alohomora_." There was a click and George flung the door open.

It had been waiting on the other side.

Jane, Ron, and Hermione all screamed. The enormous three-headed dog, drool dripping from its yellow fangs, lunged at the door, looking as though it wanted nothing more for a midnight snack than five children—one smaller one for each head and then two bigger ones for afters.

"Oh, he's up!" Fred said, in the same voice one usually used when one was pleased with today's weather for Quidditch. "Brilliant."

"Close the door!" Ron squeaked

"Won't it get out?" Jane asked.

"Naw, can't fit. See?" George waved his hand through the door. Jane's heart stopped, but he withdrew it time; the dog's center head nearly took it off, but the other two heads knocked into the doorjamb. It staggered back, dazed, and George pushed the door shut. They heard the lock click.

Jane, Hermione, and Ron stared at the twins.

"Are you _mad_?" Hermione said.

"Yes," they said together.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm going to bed. Come on." She turned to go. Ron and Jane followed.

"I don't think they've noticed," Hermione said when the twins were out of earshot.

"What, that it could eat them?" Jane said. "No, I don't think they have."

"They should get together with Hagrid," Ron said. "He'd love that thing."

"Not _that_," Hermione said, as if Jane and Ron were the stupidest people she'd met. "What it was standing on."

"Hermione, if it was standing on my heart's desire, I wouldn't have noticed," said Ron. "I was looking at its _heads_."

"There was a trap door under it," Hermione explained. "It must be guarding something."

"Don't tell Fred and George," Jane said. "They'll want to know what's down there, next."


	5. A Muggle Christmas

**Chapter Five **

**A Muggle Christmas **

Jane hadn't expected to be back in London so soon. When she'd last been at King's Cross, on the first of September, she hadn't given any thought to the fact that she might come back. She'd been so caught up in the idea of _leaving_, getting away from Privet Drive, that she had forgotten about school holidays. She'd always hated school holidays, because that meant she had to stay inside all day with Aunt Petunia, and she'd certainly never been included in the Dursleys' Christmas celebrations.

"Now," Hermione said, seizing Jane's arm before they got off the train. "I want to warn you. My parents… they're a bit… enthusiastic… that I've, erm, got a friend, all right?"

Jane nodded. She supposed she could understand that.

Hermione's parents were waiting for them outside the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. Jane thought they looked like nice people—Hermione had clearly gotten her hair from her mother and her father had her warm brown eyes.

"Hello, dear," Mrs. Granger said, offering her hand. "You must be Jane. We've heard so much about you."

"It's nice to meet you, too," she said, shaking Mrs. Granger's hand.

"So, not too embarrassed, are you?" her father asked Hermione. "Because we can be even more embarrassing, I promise."

"Oh, _Dad_." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't mind him," she said to Jane. "He's barmy."

Jane was smiling, though. These people would be nothing like the Dursleys.

They truly were nothing like the Dursleys. Mr. Granger had a very nice new car, but he didn't say a word about it.

"Where do you live, Jane?" Mrs. Granger asked, as he pulled out of the side street he'd parked on.

"With my aunt and uncle in Surrey." Jane had not thought of a good way to explain why she wasn't with them. "They can't take me Christmas."

Hermione frowned, but Mrs. Granger smiled. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm glad we were able to have you. I did tell Hermione that you probably would probably be homesick and want to be with them…"

"I'm fine," Jane said brightly. She was watching the scenery go by out the window. She'd only been to London a few times and she liked seeing the old buildings. "I think Hogwarts is brilliant. It's all been such an adventure."

"Yes, I'm sure it is." Mrs. Granger turned to look at Hermione. "So, what adventures have you girls had?"

Hermione sank into her seat. "We've learned to fly on broomsticks," she answered.

Jane thought it would be best not to chime in about the three-headed dog or the Forbidden Forest. Perhaps Hermione didn't want her parents to know she'd got detention.

"That sounds like fun," Mr. Granger said. "I guess that makes you a real witch. I confess I'm a bit disappointed to see Jane's cat isn't black."

"I told you real witches aren't like that," Hermione said, with mock exasperation. She reached through the bars on Crookshanks's carrier to scratch his head. "Most people have owls, anyway. There aren't a lot of cats in our house.

"Yes, I remember that from the letter. An owl, a cat, or a toad."

"Our friend Ron's got a rat," Jane said. She'd never realized before that rats hadn't been on the letter. She wondered why Percy had ever done anything against the rules like that.

Mrs. Granger shivered. "Thankfully it's not in your dormitory."

Jane was happy the conversation had drifted from her family. She didn't like answering questions about the Dursleys. Adults asked a lot of questions and it was hard to keep coming up with answers. The few times adults had asked too many questions, it had been hard for Jane to get them off the subject.

The Grangers lived in a nice neighborhood in London, with tree-lined streets and old houses. Jane liked them—they were far more interesting than the recent constructions on Privet Drive that all looked the same. The Grangers' home was different to the one next to it, which made the street more interesting. The things inside looked more expensive than the things in the Dursleys' house, and Jane noticed that it also wasn't as clean, but she thought that was nice. The house actually looked like people lived in it.

"The guest room's ready for you, Jane," said Mrs. Granger, when they brought their things inside. "Hermione will show you."

Jane followed her friend upstairs. She had never been a guest in any house but Mrs. Figg's. She was very nervous. Was she doing all right? Was she being polite enough? She certainly didn't want the Grangers to think she was ungrateful.

"My room's right next door," Hermione explained, opening the door to the guest room. "Crookshanks will like the window seat."

Indeed, when Jane let him out of his carrier a moment later, he went right to it and curled up in a patch of winter sunshine.

"Are they really all right?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"Are who all right?" Jane opened her bag.

"My parents." Hermione sat down on the bed. "I was really nervous having you meet them. They can be a bit… much."

Jane sat down next to her friend. "Hermione, your parents are _brilliant_. You realize what I'm measuring against—the _Dursleys_. They were really awful."

Hermione was quiet. "I'm sorry. I know what I must sound like… at least I've got parents."

"Really," Jane said, squeezing Hermione's hand. "This is already the best holiday I've ever had."

That had planted a nervous seed in the back of Jane's mind. She'd never really had a Christmas. She'd never gotten a present, and she'd never given one. Would Hermione like her present? She'd needed to enlist Percy's help in getting it, but she very much hoped Hermione would like it.

The next day was Christmas Eve. Hermione had told her that the Grangers traditionally went to a Tudor Christmas festival on Christmas Eve.

"We didn't know if you'd want to go this year," Mrs. Granger said. "Because you've got a friend over…"

"No," said Hermione a little too firmly. "We should go. Jane's never been to something like this, have you, Jane?"

Jane shook her head.

Just before it got dark, they all bundled up (Hermione surreptitiously lent Jane a heavier coat) and headed out.

The festival was beautiful. She might have described it as magical before she'd known magic was real, and even knowing that, it still was. The Grangers knew what to expect, but it was all new to Jane—the costumed carolers, the stands of food, the skating rink.

"Do you want to try skating?" Hermione asked her.

Jane bit her lip.

"We don't have to," Hermione said. "I just wanted to know if you'd like to try."

"No," Jane said, tossing her red-and-gold scarf over her shoulder. She'd be brave. "I will try it."

It was almost like learning to fly all over again. Hermione held tight to Jane's hand as they wobbled out onto the ice on their rented skates.

"Now, I don't expect you've had roller skates, either, so we'll start slow," Hermione said. She was skating backwards in front of her, just as Jane had done for Neville. "Just sort of walk with them. And look at me, not at the ground."

Hermione was a good teacher. They did half a circuit of the rink like this before Hermione let go. "Now," she said. "Try on your own. Left, right, left, right."

Jane was a bit wobbly. "I think I'll fall, Hermione."

"No," Hermione said. "You won't. I won't let you fall. Just try it."

Jane took a few steps forward on her own and promptly pitched forward. Hermione grabbed her shoulders. "See?" she said brightly. "You did it. Now, let's try for longer."

They had traveled several more feet and Jane was gaining even more confidence when they heard a voice say, "Look who it is!"

Hermione spun, a horrified look on her face, nearly dropping Jane in the process. "What are you doing here?"

Two girls their age were a few feet away on the ice. They immediately reminded Jane of Parkinson and Davis.

"We wondered where you went when we didn't see you at secondary school," one of them said.

"I go to boarding school," said Hermione.

"Run away, did you?" said the other girl.

"No," Hermione said, chin in the air. "It's very exclusive and I was invited. I'll have you know I have friends there."

These must have been girls from Hermione's Muggle school. Jane took a wobbly step forward around Hermione.

"Ooh, friends," the first girl said. "Is this your _friend_?"

"Yeah, I'm her friend," Jane said. "Hermione's brilliant. She's my best friend and you've no right to say anything about her. You don't even know half of what she can do. You wouldn't last a day at our school."

The girls giggled. "And why would we _want_ to go to nerd school?"

Jane was very strongly tempted to tell them what sort of school Hogwarts really was, but then she remembered Professor Binns's lectures about the Statute of Secrecy.

"Come on, Hermione," she said sharply, grabbing Hermione's hand and starting out across the ice. She didn't get far before her legs went out from under her and she landed hard on her rear, bringing Hermione down with her.

The girls burst into laughter. "At least you can fall, Granger. You've got plenty of padding!"

Red-faced, Hermione got up and pulled Jane to her feet. Together, they skated away.

"I'm sorry about that, Hermione," Jane said. "I didn't mean to fall."

Hermione shook her head, hair flying. "No, you were brilliant. No one's ever stuck up for me before."

"If only they knew," Jane said darkly. "If they knew about Hogwarts…"

By the end of the evening, Jane had managed a circuit of the rink on her own, with only one complete fall and two panicked grabs for the wall, the Muggle girls all but forgotten.

"So, Jane," Mr. Granger said, as they walked to their car, "what do you think of our little tradition?"

Jane looked back at the bright lights of the festivities. "I think it's wonderful," she murmured.

The Grangers got up early on Christmas morning to open presents. It was wonderful to see a real family at Christmas, not one who was showing off for the neighbors, all while ignoring Jane. That's what a Dursley Christmas was like, trying to outdo each other and the year before, but not really caring what the presents meant to them.

Hermione's family was totally different. They had hot chocolate and biscuits (that would never have been a breakfast at the Dursleys) as they sat around the tree. And on top of all of that, there were presents for Jane.

Mrs. Weasley had sent her a hand-knitted jumper of deep purple, as well as a tin of fudge, which she shared with the Grangers. Hermione had given her _A Manual of Cat Care_, and Hagrid had sent her a lovely carved flute.

There was even a present for her from the Grangers.

"I don't know if this is something you've already got," Mrs. Granger said, as Jane opened the box. "Perhaps your aunt's given it to you."

It was a book.

"Ooh, _Anne of Green Gables_!" said Hermione excitedly. "I love that book."

Mrs. Granger nodded. "It was my favorite when I was your age. It was the first thing I thought of when I wanted to get something for an eleven-year-old girl." She looked rather wistful as she said this. "I hope you'll enjoy Anne, Jane."

"Thank you, Mrs. Granger." Jane ran her hand over the cover, which depicted a girl in an old-fashioned dress. She hadn't been allowed much to read at the Dursleys—she'd read at school, in the library, but she had not been allowed to bring books home. ("We're not paying for any books you lose!" Aunt Petunia had said.) She couldn't wait to read this one.

"This one's for me," Hermione said, examining the tag on a small square box. Jane's heart skipped a beat. "It's from Jane."

Jane watched as Hermione tore the wrappings off and lifted the lid of the box. "Oh," Hermione breathed. With an almost disbelieving look on her face, she lifted the gold chain out of the box. "This is…"

"I've got the other half." Jane reached into her jumper and pulled it out. "It's an infinity symbol. It means—"

"I know what it means." Hermione pressed her half of the necklace up against Jane's. The two halves clicked together and words in a loopy script began to move along the curves of the infinity.

_Best friends_.

Without warning, Hermione threw her arms around Jane, nearly knocking her to the floor. "Oh, Jane, I love it. No one's ever given me anything like this before."

Jane put her arms around Hermione. "I've never had anyone to _give_ something like this to."

Hermione put her half of the necklace on immediately and Jane thought she saw Mrs. Granger wipe a tear away from her eye.

At the end, there was one last package left under the tree. It was for Jane, but it didn't say who it was from. She opened it cautiously. After some of the shocks she'd had this year, she couldn't be sure.

It was a cloak, a beautiful silver cloak.

"That's gorgeous," Hermione whispered.

"Like water," said her mother.

Jane threw it around her shoulders. Hermione's parents gasped. Jane couldn't see her arms and legs.

"That's an invisibility cloak," Hermione breathed. "Oh, Jane. Who could have sent you that? They're rare and highly restricted."

"My goodness," Mrs. Granger said. "I've never seen anything like it. It is real, isn't it? It's not a trick of the light?"

Jane turned. It was amazing to think how normal magic seemed to her now; it was hard to remember what her old normal life had once been like. Hermione's parents were staring disbelievingly at the cloak. Jane and Hermione had both accepted the idea of an invisibility cloak instantly, but her parents were clearly having trouble processing it.

Hermione didn't seem to see this.

"There's a note," she said, reaching for a piece of paper on the ground. "It must've fallen out when you turned." She read it aloud. "'Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.'" Hermione stopped. "It doesn't say who it's from."

Jane swished the cloak around herself, trying to figure out what on Earth she could use it for.

And who could have sent it.

It rained for the entire trip north on the Hogwarts Express, but Jane didn't mind. She was still glowing from Christmas—from feeling that she had a place to belong and the way Hermione had reacted to her present. She hadn't taken her half of the necklace off and neither had Hermione. She didn't think the boys would be too interested in that, but she couldn't wait to show them the cloak.

"But who could it have been from?" Hermione said suddenly.

"What?" Jane looked up from _Anne_.

"The _cloak_."

"I don't know." Jane watched the rain lash the windows of the train. "Hagrid knew my parents. Maybe we should ask him."

When they got back to Gryffindor Tower, Ron was waiting for them in their usual cluster of chairs.

"Looks like Mum got you, too," he said, observing Jane's jumper. "Mine's _maroon_. It's maroon every year."

"Yes," Jane said. "And I want to go to the Owlery and thank her—"

"And!" Ron cut in. "Guess what I've found out." He motioned for the girls to move in closer. "I found out why the… that person… wanted to hurt the unicorn."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "Why? How?"

"Percy." He looked pleased to have thought this up. "Apparently, they do unicorns in fourth year. I thought to ask him in case he knew and he says unicorn blood is a highly illegal potion ingredient and it's only used in really, really Dark stuff. Percy wouldn't tell me what, but I don't think he knew."

Hermione looked disappointed. "I suppose this means it won't be in any book outside the Restricted Section."

"Ah, but I have another idea." Ron looked very pleased with himself, like a chess master. "Jane's going to ask Snape."

Jane's mouth dropped open. "Snape? But you said—"

"I know. But I've changed my mind. Snape's a Potions Master. I bet he could get unicorn blood any old way than stalking the forest, if he really was up to something. But if Jane asks Snape what kinds of potions unicorn blood's used in, he'll tell her. He likes her."

Jane and Hermione exchanged glances. Would this work?

It was decided that she would ask Snape after Potions on Friday morning. Jane waited until the classroom had emptied. Ron and Hermione dawdled in packing up and filed out after the others, leaving Jane alone with the professor.

Her heart was pounding nervously. "Professor Snape?" she asked, finally slipping her arm through the strap of her bag.

"What is it, Miss Potter?" He didn't look up from the essays he was flipping through.

"I was wondering if you could answer a question for me. It's sort of about Potions... It's just that..."

"Out with it, Miss Potter. I do not have all day."

"I've been doing some reading about unicorns, sir." She had to be careful or else she'd be sure to blow it. "And I know their blood is illegal to use in potion-making. I was wondering why that is."

Snape paused for so long she was afraid he wouldn't answer her. Something seemed to come into his eyes, as though he had heard all of this a long time ago. "That is because," he said silkily, "drinking the blood of a unicorn is said to make the drinker immortal." He almost spat the word out. "Many who yearn for eternal life hear this and believe it to be the ticket to what they desire, however, an immortal life sustained by unicorn blood is not a life such as you enjoy, Miss Potter. One who has consumed the blood of a unicorn is barely alive in the true sense, rendered an addict and forced to continue killing such beautiful creatures to sustain their pitiful existence." For the first time, he looked her in the eyes and his dark gaze seemed to bore into her. "And what would you want to know about that for?"

Jane swallowed hard, fighting the urge to bolt. "Just curious, sir. Just curious."

"Very well." Snape finally tore his eyes away. "Get out of here, Miss Potter, before you miss lunch."

Jane made her way shakily up from the dungeons. Ron and Hermione were waiting in the entrance hall.

"So?" Hermione asked eagerly. "What did he say?"

Jane swallowed hard. "I'll tell you later. It's not really lunchtime conversation."

They had to wait until late, because after lunch, there were classes, and then dinner and then, Angelina and Alicia wanted to make sure they weren't having any trouble with homework and Percy was looking at them suspiciously so they worked on Transfiguration until he wandered away to keep Fred and George from leaving the common room with a box of dungbombs none too cleverly concealed under Fred's Quidditch robes.

"All right," Hermione said briskly, once she could be sure Percy's attention was elsewhere. "What did he say?"

Jane told her friends everything Professor Snape had told her. Hermione and Ron listened with wide eyes.

"Immortality's serious business," Ron said, after it had had time to sink in. "I mean, we live longer than Muggle anyhow, so you've got to be really desperate. Plus, all the stories they tell about it…" Ron shuddered. "It always has really nasty consequences. It's not like eternal youth."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "I don't know where else we can go from here."

"Maybe this is something we don't want to mess with," Jane said. "With Hagrid watching the forest and the teachers in the school, I think we're pretty safe."

"Yeah," Ron said. "Except from that dog, if Fred and George ever let it out."

They soon forgot all about the issue about the unicorn blood, as Saturday was the Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Jane understood that they wanted Ravenclaw to win, in order to give Gryffindor a better lead in the standings.

At least, she hoped she understood, because Fred and George had been talking over each other as they'd explained this to Jane and Hermione on their way to the pitch.

Hermione hadn't even wanted to come if Gryffindor wasn't playing, but the boys had made her.

"You'd think you'd like all this," Ron had said, handing her a Ravenclaw badge to pin to her robes. "All kinds of maths involved."

Hermione huffed. "But exams—"

"Are in _June_!" Ron pushed her into a seat in the front row of the stands. "Honestly, Hermione, this is unnatural."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, but Jane noticed a hint of a smile there.

"I just can't believe the stupid Snitch is worth a hundred and fifty points to catch it. Who thought that up?"

Ron and the twins stared at her like she was insane.

Thankfully, the game didn't last nearly as long as the match between Gryffindor and Slytherin had. Ravenclaw's Seeker had caught the Snitch before Hufflepuff's had even realized anything was happening.

The Ravenclaw team had landed to celebrate and the Hufflepuff Beaters began rounding up the Bludgers for storage. One of them, a sixth-year boy, had his tucked in his arms and was descending when all of a sudden, he lost his grip on it and it shot across the stadium.

"Funny," Fred said, "it's like it doesn't realize the match has ended."

Jane was about to ask if the Bludgers were normally shut off when she realized it was headed straight toward the Gryffindor stands.

Right toward Jane.

She and Hermione dodged apart, sending Jane sprawling across Ron and George. The Bludger slammed into the seat, sending splinters of wood flying high into the air.

"Oi, Rickett!" Fred shouted. "Butterfingers!"

"All right, Jane?" George asked, helping her to her feet.

"I think so." Jane peered at the hole in her seat. The Bludger had dropped like a stone all the way to the ground, clearing a path through the supports in the stands. That hole could just as easily have been in her.

"Orderly, now," Professor Sinistra was saying. "Everyone clear the stands in an orderly fashion. You kids all right up there?"

"We're fine, Professor!" Hermione called, as she and Fred moved away from the other side of the hole. "I can't believe you like this game," she muttered. "You'd never see a football do that."

"That doesn't usually happen," Ron assured them, as they made their way back up to the school. "The balls are supposed to be spelled not to leave the pitch."

"Maybe that Bludger was broken," Jane suggested.

Ron shook his head. "Madam Hooch would have noticed if something was wrong with it. She'd be able to replace worn-out spells, or get a new Bludger."

"So what could it have been?"

Ron shook his head. "I don't know, Jane. But it did look like it was coming right after you."

With this pleasant thought, they retired to their common room.

If someone had been trying to kill Jane, they hadn't tried again. Very likely, she was perfectly safe. After all, why would someone try to kill an eleven-year-old girl? She only knew of one person who'd tried to kill her and he was supposed to be gone.

Thus, it came as a surprise, but not a terrible one when Hermione came into the dormitory one afternoon, a grave look on her face.

"Good, you're alone," she said and shut the door.

"What is it?" Jane looked up from the cat book she was reading.

"I wanted to talk to you." Hermione sat on her bed and pulled Crookshanks into her lap. "About the Bludger."

Jane bit her lip. "You really don't think someone was trying to kill me? The teachers all looked at the Bludger—"

"And it was fine, I know. But I don't like it, Jane. It was headed _right_ for you and Ron's right, they're not supposed to leave the pitch."

Jane drew her knees up to her chest. "I know, but why do you think someone would want to come after me?"

Hermione gave her a pointed look. "I think you know who it might be."

"Yeah." Jane flopped back on the bed. "You-Know-Who."

"Well," said Hermione tentatively, "don't you think we should get a teacher?"

"Why?"

Hermione looked stunned that Jane would even ask this. "Because you _have _to tell a grownup before you're hurt!"

"I don't exactly trust grownups, Hermione."

"But why?" Hermione looked confused.

"I don't think you want to know." She turned away from Hermione, but the other girl got up and came around to the other side of Jane's bed. She had her necklace out of her robes. "Remember, Jane? We're best friends. You can tell me anything."

Jane sighed and sat up. "Okay. But, Hermione, you have to promise not to tell _anyone_. Not Ron, not Fred and George, especially not an adult. Okay?"

Hermione looked hesitant, but her eyes never left Jane's. "Okay."

Jane had never told anyone any of this. She'd already told Hermione she hadn't had friends, and of course, Hermione and the Weasleys knew the Dursleys hadn't wanted her to come back for Christmas. But she'd never told anyone about the cupboard. Still, she trusted Hermione to keep it a secret.

"You know my relatives," she began, and Hermione nodded. She had a worried look on her face like she was afraid of what she would hear. "I told you they never really cared about me. My aunt hated my mother, hated that she was a witch. They didn't tell me anything about magic, or Hogwarts, or Voldemort. I sleep in the cupboard under the stairs."

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. "Jane, you _have_ to—"

"No, Hermione," she said, more sharply than she'd meant. "You promised."

"I know." She looked disappointed.

"I mean, it's not like they beat me or anything," Jane said. "They didn't starve me. They just didn't give me presents or let me have friends or anything like that."

Hermione frowned.

"But I've got friends _now_," Jane reminded her. "You're all brilliant and I love Hogwarts. And if someone's really coming after me, I'm going to take care of it myself."

"No, you're not," said Hermione quickly. "Your _friends_ are going to help you."


	6. Elves and Dragons

**Chapter Six**

**Elves and Dragons**

On Saturday night, Jane remembered that she had yet to show Ron and the twins the cloak.

"I've got something to show you," she said. "But it's got to wait until everyone else has gone to bed."

The boys looked appropriately intrigued. Jane could hardly wait until the common room emptied that night. However, because it was Saturday, it took quite a long time.

"You want to play chess?" Ron asked.

"I don't know how," Jane said. She only knew about chess because Dudley had received a set once from well-meaning acquaintance of Uncle Vernon's. He had never learned to play, though, so Jane had never been taught the rules.

"Oh, it's easy. You'll pick it up."

"I can help," Percy said, coming up to their table. "I may be no match for Ron, but maybe together, we'll have a fighting chance."

"Okay. That'll help." Jane scooted her chair over so Percy could pull one up. Ron rolled his eyes, but Percy didn't see.

"White moves first," Ron announced. "That's me." His pawn moved forward on its own.

"Wow!" This was nothing like the Muggle version. She supposed she should have expected that.

Ron grinned. "Just you wait," he said.

Despite Percy's explanation of how each piece could move, it didn't take long for Jane to lose a pawn to Ron. She didn't really mind, though, because it was fascinating to watch his knight drag it thrashing and struggling off the board.

Jane lost twice, but she was glad to have had the help. Maybe next time, she'd have a chance.

The most important thing, though, was that Jane's dismal performance apparently tired Percy out and he went to bed, leaving the common room vacant.

"Right," said Ron, shoving the board aside. "What did you want to show us?" The twins came over and Hermione laid her Charms homework aside.

"Hang on, I'll get it." Jane dashed up the girls' stairs and tiptoed into her dormitory, careful not to wake Lavender and Parvati. Then, she raced back down to the common room.

"Someone sent this to me at Christmas," she said. "It belonged to my father, but I don't know anything more than that." She unfurled the cloak. All three Weasleys' eyes went wide.

"Is that—" Fred started.

"—An invisibility cloak," breathed George.

"Wicked!" Ron exclaimed. "Let's see it."

Jane put it on and they all watched as she disappeared. It was still hard to get used to; she didn't feel invisible at all, but they were all gaping at her and she couldn't see her arms and legs.

"Excellent!" said George.

"You could go anywhere!" Ron said. "See anything in the castle."

Jane pushed the hood back. "Isn't it great?"

Fred stroked his chin thoughtfully. "This might come in handy one day."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't even think about it, Fred. That's a priceless family heirloom for Jane. She doesn't have anything else from her father."

"But, Hermione," Fred said, "you could get into the Restricted Section. _Books_!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'll think about it," Jane said, rolling the cloak back up. "Maybe if there's a really good opportunity."

A really good opportunity presented itself in February. It was days before the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match and tensions among the houses were running high. Or maybe that had just been Malfoy's excuse, because Neville could never be confused for a Quidditch player. Fred and George had found him on their way back from practice, trying to hop through the portrait hole with his legs locked. They brought him to Hermione for the countercurse and he told the five of them how he'd been ambushed outside the library.

"You've got to tell a teacher," Hermione told him.

"No," Jane said. "That won't help. When's it helped in the past? She'll take points, but Malfoy won't stop."

Hermione gave Jane a withering look.

"Stand up to him!" Ron said, gesturing with his quill. "Fight back. He's only going to keep coming after you if you don't fight back."

Neville gave him a mournful look. "I _can't_. What am I going to do? I'm rubbish at magic."

"Punch him?" suggested Fred.

"You're _not_ rubbish," Hermione said. "You're brilliant at Herbology."

"Yeah," said Neville. "That's how I'll get back at Malfoy. Plants."

Hermione looked annoyed.

"We'll think of something," Ron assured him. Jane and the twins nodded.

Neville sighed. "Thanks, guys. Thanks, Hermione." They watched him make his way to the boys' staircase, still walking a bit stiffly.

"We have to do something," Fred said darkly. "Can't be letting that little twerp run roughshod over Gryffindor like that."

"Who does he even think he is?" said George.

"Got any ideas?" asked Jane.

"Well…" Fred looked thoughtful. "I was thinking I might inquire about borrowing that cloak of yours."

"What are you planning?" Hermione asked.

"Give him a taste of his own medicine?" asked George.

Fred nodded.

"You won't let them, will you, Jane?" Hermione asked.

Jane bit her lip. She really did want to use the cloak for something fun, and she remembered how nice it would have been to be able to stand up to those Muggle girls with magic…

"What did you have in mind?" she said.

Hermione gathered her books noisily. "I'm out of this," she said. "I don't want any part of it."

"Suit yourself." Fred took her chair. "Now. Here's what I had planned…"

Jane had half expected Hermione to get Percy, but she hadn't. She was sad that she'd made Hermione upset, but this didn't do anything to deter her from their plan. They needed to do this for Neville.

At first, the trouble was deciding who should go. All four of them wanted to, but only two of them would fit under the cloak.

"It was my idea," Fred said. "George and I should go."

"It's _my _cloak," Jane protested.

"And I've been wanting to get back at Malfoy since last term," said Ron. "Remember the Remembrall?"

"Here," said George, reaching for a scrap of parchment. "We'll draw lots. It'll be Jane and whoever draws the lot."

He won. Even though Jane had done the lots, she assumed he'd cheated.

They decided to do it the following night. When Jane finally went up to her dormitory, Hermione's bed curtains were drawn.

"Hermione," she hissed. "Hermione. Are you awake?"

There was no response. Jane sighed and crawled into bed, reaching for Crookshanks. Surely Hermione couldn't stay mad at her.

Hermione still wasn't speaking to her the next day. Jane hated that her best friend was put out, but she was also distracted by their plan for the night.

At eight o'clock, Jane and George left the common room. Jane had the cloak in her skirt pocket. George had a box under his arm.

"They're in there?" she asked, once they were away from the portrait hole.

"Yup." George turned the box over so she could see what was written on it. "Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks. A thing of beauty."

In front of the statue of Lachlan the Lanky, Jane threw the cloak over them both. She'd never been under it with somebody else, and especially given how much taller George was, they had to take extra care to make sure nobody's feet were showing. She was glad they hadn't tried to take three.

They had to walk in lockstep down seven flights of stairs, balancing the box between them.

"Are you sure about where their common room is?"

"Yeah," said George. "Positive."

They went down the stairs toward the Potions classroom, but they turned left instead of right, then right, then left again.

"You've already been," Jane said.

"No," said George. "Honest. I haven't. But I know where it is. Mostly." He frowned. "It should be around her somewhere, but I haven't seen a portrait. I'm positive this is the corridor, I memorized the—"

"Shh, someone's coming." They pressed themselves up against the wall. Warrington and Pucey were coming toward them.

"Snape is the best," said Pucey.

At first, Jane wondered why he was spouting random nonsense, but then she realized that the wall behind them had actually been a door. She and George stumbled backwards through it, into the common room, and she was almost sure that the toe of George's trainer had become visible. She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the side, away from Pucey and Warrington.

George was grinning with undisguised glee. "We're in," he mouthed.

Jane grinned back.

The Slytherin common room could not have been more different from the Gryffindor common room. It was rectangular, instead of round, with a long, low ceiling with lamps hanging from it on chains. It gave the whole place a greenish cast. There were no windows, and the dominating feature of the room was a fireplace with intricate, ghoulish carvings, flanked by two enormous stone snakes with huge emerald eyes. In the absence of windows, the common room was covered with tapestries, depicting various unpleasant-looking people.

George elbowed her and pointed. Malfoy was in front of the fire, in a high-backed chair. Crabbe and Goyle were standing beside him like guards, and Parkinson, Davis, Greengrass, and Nott were sitting around him. Perfect.

Jane and George moved together slowly, now quite used to having to having to walk in tandem.

"My father says there ought to be a test," Malfoy was saying. "Even if you're one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It just dilutes the pool further to have the likes of Longbottoms and Weasleys here when they're clearly not up to snuff…"

George's jaw tightened. For a moment, Jane was afraid he might throw the cloak off and attack Malfoy.

She grabbed his elbow and pulled him behind Malfoy's chair. This was the perfect spot. They crouched down and opened the box. They grabbed as many fireworks as they could in one go and shoved them under the chair. Then, they snapped the box shut and ran, as fast as they dared with the cloak. Jane longed to look, but they couldn't chance being caught in all the chaos that was to follow.

They were halfway to the door when the Slytherins noticed the fireworks. Malfoy screamed, as he was thrown into the air, chair and all. Jane and George couldn't resist turning to admire the scene as the fireworks shot off the stone walls of the common room, a rainbow of chaos.

"Let's go," George hissed, as they just barely missed getting out of the way of Marcus Flint, who was running from the common room, probably to get Snape. They followed him through the door and Jane had to yank the cloak hard to keep it from being caught. She was sure they hadn't been seen, though. Surely no one had been looking their way. They ran down the corridor, until they'd gone far enough through the maze of the dungeons that it was safe to make noise. Jane pulled off the cloak and they burst out laughing.

"That was brilliant," said George. "Wish the others could have seen his face!"

Jane slumped against the wall, wheezing. Despite Hermione's misgivings, she was sure this had been an appropriate use of her dad's cloak.

The next day at breakfast, every single Slytherin was glaring at the Gryffindor table. Snape was looking right at Fred and George in particular.

"Just act natural," George told Jane. "They won't suspect a thing from you."

The twins seemed happy to take unspoken credit, though they didn't come close to saying anything explicitly. They seemed excited to have gotten the Slytherins riled up. At this point, Jane was more worried about Hermione.

As they were walking to Herbology, she pulled her aside in the entrance hall.

"We need to talk," she said.

"Yes," Hermione said. "We do." She looked stern.

"Hermione, please." Jane had vowed to keep it together, but she couldn't help her lower lip trembling. "Don't let a bit of rule-breaking ruin our friendship?"

Hermione's eyes went wide. "Oh, Jane." She hugged her. "It won't ruin our friendship. And besides," she whispered, "he did deserve it."

As winter passed into spring, it became increasingly clear that they had gotten away with it, despite the fact that Snape still cast suspicious looks at the twins. They seemed to enjoy this.

"So," Fred said, one day in late February, "what should our next caper be, Janie?" He dropped onto the couch next to her and Hermione. George came to stand behind them.

"I was thinking Hermione and I would take the cloak out," Jane said. "What do you think, Hermione?"

"I think that sounds lovely. What did you have planned?"

Jane looked over to where Ron was beating Seamus at chess. "It's going to be Ron's birthday soon. Can you tell us how to get into the kitchens?"

The twins exchanged glances. "And why should we do that?" George asked.

"Because." She took each of their hands. "You're very generous and you want to help your brother."

They looked skeptical of this.

"You want to help me?"

"You do understand," said George, "we want to maintain _some_ mystery."

Jane thought for a moment. Negotiating with these two would obviously take a little bit more. "Cloak," she said. "If you'll do this for us, you can borrow the cloak later, for an errand of your choice."

Fred and George looked at each other.

"You know, George," said Fred, "we may not need it." He seemed to be attempting to communicate with George through eye movements.

"_Cloak_," said George firmly. He leaned down between Jane and Hermione. "Just go down the stairs where the Hufflepuff Common Room is, the one on the right. You'll see a painting of a bowl of fruit. Tickle the pear and go right in."

"Thanks, George!" said Jane brightly. Fred still looked annoyed, but she knew it wouldn't last. The lure of the cloak was too strong.

Jane and Hermione headed down to the kitchens the evening of Ron's birthday, while the twins and Neville were keeping him distracted.

"This is sort of fun," Hermione admitted as they crept down the stairs. "I mean, I still can't believe it's an actual invisibility cloak!"

"Isn't it brilliant?" Jane paused at the foot of the stairs, as George had taught her, to make sure Filch wasn't approaching.

"Yes. And this is really nice to do for Ron. I think he'll be happy to have a party after they had one for me."

Jane nodded. She wanted to do whatever she could to make her friends happy.

"Your birthday's in summer, right?"

"Yeah. Thirty-first of July."

"Well, then," Hermione said. "We'll have to do something. I guess your aunt and uncle wouldn't let you come to my house."

"Definitely not," Jane muttered.

"I'll come up with something," Hermione said, with conviction. Jane had no doubt that she would.

They were now walking down a corridor decorated with paintings of food. There weren't any rooms obviously leading off it, but Jane knew that one of the paintings was actually a door.

"There!" said Hermione, pointing. The bowl of fruit was right in front of them. Hermione reached a hand out from under the cloak and they had the odd experience of seeing Hermione's floating finger tickle the pear. It changed into a handle and they pulled the door open.

When Jane stepped into the kitchen, she realized they must be directly under the Great Hall, because the room was exactly the same size. It even had the four house tables and the staff table in the same spots they would be in the real Great Hall.

"It's enormous!" Hermione said. "There was nothing in _Hogwarts: A History_!"

Jane pulled the cloak off them and shoved it in her pocket. "All right, let's see where we can find some sweets. Fred and George didn't say anything about—" Jane stopped.

There were figures moving toward them, and they weren't human. They were about waist high, with huge bulging eyes and large floppy ears. Jane let out a terrified squeak.

"Jane Potter?" said one of them.

The murmur was taken up by the other creatures. "Jane Potter… Jane Potter…"

"Er, hi," said Jane.

They swarmed about her and Hermione, blinking silently.

"D'you think…" Jane began. "D'you think we could have some things for our friend's birthday?"

"At once, miss!" the one that seemed to be the leader said. They all turned and fell over each other to get to the pantry. When they came back, they were carrying all sorts of delicious things—cakes and pies and tarts.

"And a basket?" Hermione asked. "We could probably use a basket, or something."

"A basket!" one of the creatures exclaimed. "Nibby! A basket!"

Nibby scurried off and returned a moment later with a large wicker picnic basket. It must have been enchanted, because the little creatures packed the birthday feast, the dishes and large jugs of pumpkin juice all up with no trouble.

"Thanks," said Jane, still not knowing what exactly she was supposed to do.

Nibby clapped his hands to his mouth. "Jane Potter thanks house-elves?"

"Well, yeah."

The house-elves all bowed low, their long noses nearly scraping the stone floor.

"House-elves thank _you_ Jane Potter," Nibby said. "If Jane Potter ever needs anything again she must come at once, miss! She must!"

"I'll keep that in mind." Jane waved. "Thanks."

That set off another wave of bowing and Jane and Hermione went out the door quickly.

"I've never heard of house-elves," Hermione said, pulling the cloak over them while Jane carried the basket. It didn't weigh nearly as much as it should have. "They aren't in _Fantastic Beasts_…"

Ron was excited to see what they'd brought for him.

"Where'd you manage to get all this?" he asked, as they dug in.

Jane turned to look at the twins. "It's a secret."

Apparently, Ron was too excited to even be annoyed by this. Jane vowed that she would ask Ron to come with her when it was Fred and George's birthday.

"So, how did you like the house-elves?" Fred said, as they all stood around eating.

"Yeah, thanks for telling us about those," Jane said.

George grinned. "What, and have you be prepared? They're brilliant, aren't they? They do everything around the castle."

"But what are they?" Hermione asked.

Fred shrugged. "Beats me. But they're happy to cook for us and clean up after us. That's just what they do."

Hermione seemed to accept this, though Jane could tell by now that she was thinking about something.

Jane did indeed bring Ron with her for the twins' birthday on the first of April and she was even more happy that they had been able to actually surprise them. They liked the feast, as well as the cards Jane had made for each of them, with more detailed individual drawings of them as Beaters.

Fred and George's party was well attended and it went on until past midnight, until Percy came down from his dormitory in his dressing gown.

"What are you all still doing up?" he cried in dismay. "It is a school night!"

"Don't blame us, Perce," said George, poking the Snitch someone had brought. "It's Mum's fault we were born on a school night."

The Snitch fluttered at Percy and he batted it away. "Go to _bed_," he said firmly, looking at all of them. "You're a bad influence on the first years."

Fred and George smiled at each other like this was the best birthday present ever.

One April afternoon, they went to visit Hagrid. When they knocked on his door, he seemed reluctant to let them in.

"Oh," he said, peering at them through the cracked door. "It's you lot. C'mon in." He stepped back to let them file in.

"Bloody hell, Hagrid." Ron tugged at the collar of his robes. "Think it's a little warm in here?"

Hagrid regarded them suspiciously. "Thought it was a bit cold meself." He went over and began stoking the fire.

"Hagrid, what's that?" Hermione was pointing to the fireplace. Sitting in the coals was a large black egg.

"Oh no," Ron moaned. "Tell me that's _not_ what I think it is."

"Well," Hagrid said, "now that yeh've seen it, I guess I'd better tell yeh. It's a dragon egg."

Hermione gasped. "Hagrid, that's dangerous!"

"That's illegal!" said Ron.

"That's _cool_," said Jane. Despite her prior encounters with the acromantulas and the three-headed dog, she still wanted to see a dragon. It seemed to go right with unicorns.

"Where did you get it?" Hermione asked.

"Won it off a bloke down the Hog's Head," Hagrid said proudly. "Same place I got Fluffy."

"Who's Fluffy?" Ron asked.

Hagrid looked like he had perhaps said too much. "Dog," he said. They all looked down at Fang. "No, Fluffy's a bit bigger."

Jane could see the wheels in Hermione's head turning. "Hagrid, is Fluffy by any chance in the school?"

Hagrid's eyes lit up. "Oh, yeh've seen him! Isn't he brilliant? Such a sweetheart, too, goes righ' to sleep if there's a bit o' music playing."

"That thing's yours, too?" Ron asked incredulously, though Jane didn't know why he was surprised.

They left Hagrid's hut after tea and headed back up to the school in silence.

"You know we'll have to tell someone about the dragon," Hermione said. "He can't keep it. The acromantulas are one thing—" Ron twitched "—but the dragon could really be dangerous."

"Maybe Professor Kettleburn could help," Jane suggested. "I really don't want Hagrid to get into trouble."

"Right," Ron said. "We'll get Kettleburn when it hatches."

The note arrived at breakfast a few weeks later, carried by a barn owl. _It's hatching_.

As soon as they were out of Herbology, they decided to skip lunch and go right to Kettleburn. He was just finishing up with his fourth years and Jane, Hermione, and Ron waited for them to file past.

"Afternoon," Kettleburn said, with a nod in their direction. He had bandages on his legs and seemed to be walking with more of a limp. "How've you three been?"

"We're all right," Jane said. "But…" She took a deep breath. "There's something we've got to tell you." For a moment, felt a sudden panic. What if Kettleburn was going to get Hagrid in terrible trouble?

But no, Kettleburn was nice. He'd told Jane about the wizarding world and for that, she'd be forever grateful.

"It's about Hagrid."

"Oh?"

"He's…" Jane cast a nervous glance over her shoulder, but Kettleburn's students were all long gone. "He has a dragon egg hatching."

She had expected Kettleburn to react sternly, but quite the opposite happened. "Really?" he asked, eyes lighting up like Dudley's at Christmas when his pile of presents teetered even higher than the previous year's had. "What kind?"

Ron scratched the back of his neck. "Norwegian Ridgeback, I think."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Kettleburn strode off across the lawn. "Still hatching, you say? We don't want to miss this, kids. You'll tell your grandchildren about it."

The three of them followed him.

The egg was rocking on Hagrid's table and there was already a large crack in it. "Professor!" Hagrid said in surprise when Kettleburn entered.

"Don't worry," he said, putting his hand up, when Hagrid looked up. "Not here to turn you in. I want to watch as much as you do."

Hagrid smiled happily, pleased to have a kindred spirit. They all crowded around the table. The shell had been split by a great crack. There was a snuffling sound and Jane watched with bated breath. The egg rolled over and split, sending the baby dragon flopping out onto the table.

"Isn't he _beautiful_?" Hagrid said, patting the dragon's head with his enormous fingers. The dragon snapped at him and Ron took a step back.

"She," Kettleburn corrected, stroking the dragon's back. "This is a female."

"Aww," Hagrid cooed. "My lil girl."

The dragon gave a smoky sneeze. Jane wanted to pet her, but one look at Hermione's face told her this wasn't wise.

"But you can't keep him, Hagrid," she said. "Right, Professor? He can't keep him."

"Miss Granger's right." Kettleburn looked sad, despite himself. "The dragon will have to go to preserve when she's big enough."

"How big is big enough?" Jane asked.

"A week more, maybe two," Kettleburn explained. "Weasley." He fixed his gaze on Ron. "Where does your brother work again? Romania, is it?"

"Yeah."

Kettleburn nodded thoughtfully. "I'll get in touch with him. Old favorite of mine; it was a shame to see him go."

* * *

"All right, kids. What have you been up to?"

Jane, Ron, and Hermione jumped as Fred and George came up to their table in the common room.

"Nothing," said Ron, picking up his _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_. It was upside down.

"We can tell," Fred said, leaning down over Jane's left shoulder.

"We are the masters of being up to something," George said, looming over Ron. "We can tell."

Jane and Ron both looked frantically at Hermione.

"If we tell you, you can't tell _anyone_," she said. "It's being taken care of, but Hagrid could still get in trouble."

The twins crossed their hearts. "Gryffindor's honor," they said together.

"Do you want to come see?" Jane asked.

They both nodded vigorously.

Well, she supposed Fred hadn't had a chance with the cloak yet…

It didn't seem fair to send them alone without telling Hagrid, so Jane went with them. She didn't take up much space, and without a box of fireworks or a picnic basket, it was easier to fit three people.

Cramped, though.

It was still light out when they stole across the grounds and knocked on the door of Hagrid's hut. There was a great crash from inside.

"I'm comin'" Hagrid called. There was a sound like crockery breaking and Fang howled. Hagrid swung the door open.

"Who is it?"

Jane pulled the cloak off them. "It's us, Hagrid. D'you mind if Fred and George see… her?"

Hagrid's eyes lit up. "Come in, come in! Watch yer fingers, though, Berta bites."

It was a tight fit with all of them. Berta was twice as big as she'd been on the day she'd hatched and at this rate, she'd be too big to fit in Hagrid's house by Tuesday.

"I'd offer you kids tea," Hagrid said, "but I'm running out of dishes."

"Where did you get it?" Fred asked reverently.

Hagrid patted Berta fondly on the head, as he related the story to them. Jane listened, a second time, as he explained about Fluffy.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.

"Did you tell this man about Fluffy and the music?" she asked.

Hagrid stroked his singed beard thoughtfully. "I might've. Don't remember."

Jane was about to say something else, but she forgot what it was when Berta wagged her tail, whacking her in the shin. She stumbled and George caught her.

"Watch ou—_ow_!"

Berta had her teeth in George's arm, looking very satisfied.

"It bit me!" he cried. He looked at Jane and Fred, scandalized. "Little blighter bit me!"

Jane tried to prise Berta's jaws open, but she wasn't budging. Only when she became fed up with Jane's finger up her nostril did she snap at her. She would have taken a finger if Fred hadn't pulled Jane back.

"I think you three had better go," Hagrid said. "You'll scare her." Berta hissed at them, flapping her wings terrifyingly.

"Who's scaring who?" Fred muttered. "Come on, you need Madam Pomfrey. Good thing she doesn't ask questions."

As they helped George under the cloak, Jane completely forgot what she had meant to ask Hagrid next.

When Jane, Ron, and Hermione were next able to visit Hagrid, on Friday afternoon, Berta was gone.

Hagrid's eyes were red-rimmed and he blew his nose on a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth. "She's gone," he moaned. "Little Berta's gone off to Romania."

"But she's happier there, isn't she?" Jane asked. "With other dragons?" She knew George would be happy to hear it. His arm was still in a sling.

"Oh, she is. Look." Hagrid got up and led them over to the fireplace, which was crowded with moving wizard photographs. "Charlie sent me a picture already." He sounded wistful as he handed the framed photo to Jane. Little Berta looked three times as big as she'd been when she'd last seen her and she was tussling with two slightly bigger dragons.

"She's havin' the time o' her life," Hagrid said. "And all without Mummy."

"They do grow up fast," said Hermione. She looked over Jane's shoulder at the photograph, but Jane's attention was drawn back to the fireplace, to one of the other pictures.

"Hagrid," she said, reaching for it and setting Berta down. "Who are those people?"

The picture showed a girl and boy, probably in their seventh year. It had once been bigger; she could see where the edge had been torn and there was someone's hand around the boy's shoulder who was no longer in the photo.

The girl looked just like her.

"Oh, Janie!" Hagrid looked surprised. "Tha's yer mum and dad. You haven't seen a picture o' them?"

She couldn't stop staring, taking in more details. Her parents were laughing. They'd been Head Boy and Head Girl and were in Gryffindor.

"You really do look like her," Hermione said.

"Except for the eyes," Ron observed. "You've got your dad's eyes."

It was true. Her father had messy black hair and glasses, but his eyes were hazel, just like Jane's. Her mother's eyes were a striking green, but they had the same face, the same dark red hair. She hoped she'd have a smile like that when she was in seventh year.

"They were really nice kids, were Lily and James," Hagrid said, dabbing at his eyes again. "Jus' gettin' started in life."

Jane turned the picture over. In Hagrid's messy hand was written _June 1978_. In two years, they would have a baby—her. In three, they'd be dead. Jane swallowed hard.

"Keep that," Hagrid told her.

"But it's yours! You knew them."

Hagrid shook his head and clapped his hand on her shoulder, nearly bringing her down. "No, Janie. I can see 'em in my mind's eye whenever I want to. You keep that."

Jane blinked back tears. "Thank you, Hagrid," she whispered.

They had a quiet tea. Jane kept stealing glances at the picture of her parents sitting by her plate. She suddenly felt a fresh wave of resentment for the Dursleys. Did Aunt Petunia have a picture somewhere that she'd never shown Jane, or had she wiped all traces of her sister from her life?

"Hagrid," Hermione said suddenly, as they were picking at rock cakes. "How long is Fluffy going to be in the castle? Til the end of term?"

Hagrid dropped a heaping spoonful of sugar into his cup. "Hard to say. Don't know how long the Headmaster's supposed to hang on to the Philosopher's Stone for."

Ron looked quizzical but Hermione was smiling triumphantly. "Thanks for tea, Hagrid, we have to go to the library." She slid out of her chair and all but grabbed Jane and Ron.

They'd nearly got to the door before Hagrid stood up. "Now, Hermione, I didn't say anything about the… you know. All right?"

Hermione smiled. "Of course not, Hagrid."

"An' you three won't be doing anything too dangerous, will yeh?"

"Us, dangerous?" Ron looked at the girls. "Wouldn't dream of it."


End file.
